by L. L. McNeil
Palom withdrew his hand, all thoughts of his desires forgotten. ‘What friends?’
‘Eat, first. You need your strength.’ Her smile was back.
Palom stared at the food and ignored its inviting smell.
Emonos.
That’s what she’d called it.
Unclean.
Evil.
A word in the old tongue to describe the death of a traitor. It was a hammer blow to his gut.
Whether it was the word’s meaning or the fact it came from Lathri, Palom suddenly wanted nothing more than to rid himself of his sword. But his fear of being too weak without it kept him from moving.
‘Palom?’
He looked up, wincing at the obvious concern in her face. ‘I am okay,’ he muttered, and ate.
*
‘Kylos and Aetos are from Tum Metsa. Do you know it?’ Lathri asked as they pushed their way through the crowd. If anything, there were more people now than earlier in the evening, and while many patrons attempted to make way for the pair, most fell over themselves to shake Palom’s hand or touch the sword at his back.
Palom grunted at those who stepped aside for them, but ended up shoving more people out of the way than shaking hands. When they were finally across the room and clear, he thought of the towns in Val Sharis. ‘Tum Metsa is in north? Near sea?’
Lathri nodded, casting a sympathetic look over her shoulder at the crowd that stared after them. She led him through a door to a passageway at the back of the tavern. ‘That’s right. They came to Taban Yul shortly after the ball. Word spread quickly of what Sapora did, of those who perished that night.’ She looked away when she spoke, her hair masking her face.
He had the feeling she was choosing her words carefully, and appreciated the care she took over his emotions. ‘So, they have come for revenge? Knowing Sapora is in palace?’
‘You know us Ittallan. We hold our grudges.’
He said nothing at that, immediately thinking of Mateli, and more recently, Kohl. Anger passed through him.
‘Voulhrik also lost someone. His mentor,’ she continued. ‘One of the councillors had given him work in the palace. His name was Elafion, a stag. Unfortunately, Elafion disliked Sapora’s claim to rule. Killing for loyalty is never the way to go about it. Voulhrik still works in the palace, though. A glorified messenger, really. But some of the things he’s heard…’ She shuddered. ‘Better for you to hear it from him.’
Palom frowned. What did Lathri have to do with the palace and politics of rulers?
She strolled confidently to the unguarded door at the end of the passageway. Palom waited a few heartbeats before continuing—partly to ensure no-one followed them, and partly to enjoy the view and memories it evoked. She knocked once, opened the door, and walked through, Palom accompanying her inside.
The room was furnished simply, with six beds, a large round table, and several chairs. Three of the chairs were full, and all three occupants got to their feet, weapons grasped. When they saw Lathri, they relaxed.
Palom felt his sword flare with energy, and he took several deep breaths. He could tell two were hunters—a man and a woman, no doubt Aetos and Kylos—but the last man was taller and broader even than he was. He had to be Voulhrik. Fighting any of them would be a challenge.
No. He wouldn’t need to fight.
These were Lathri’s friends.
Conflicting emotions warred within him for a long second.
‘Please, sit,’ Lathri said, shrugging out of her cloak and laying it over the back of an empty chair. ‘This, as I’m sure you all know, is Palom.’ She ran her fingers through her hair and took her seat at the table.
Palom watched as a flicker of recognition appeared across their faces. He sighed, bracing himself for their reactions.
‘Sorry about that. Never can be too careful, Lathri. The state the city is in…’ the big man said, waving a long dagger before sheathing it and taking his seat. Palom disliked his thin moustache and beady eyes, but tried to let it slide. He was here for Lathri, after all.
‘It’s fine.’ Lathri brushed down her long sleeves.
‘Palom? The tiger?’ The woman, Kylos, asked, still standing. ‘So, you’re the one the whole country is in love with.’ Her black hair was long and smooth, tied back with gold clips. Her eyes were a lighter orange-brown than Lathri’s, more yellow, but no less cunning.
Palom looked to the man beside her—he was half a head taller than Kylos, but with matching hair and eyes. The resemblance was clear. If they were friends of Lathri, he should have nothing to fear. But suspicion ran deep when allies betrayed you, and he didn’t let his guard down.
‘You must be… Kylos?’ Palom asked her, eyeing the short, curved blade she sheathed at her hip. She nodded once, sharply, and sat down, her brother following suit.
‘Things are getting worse, Lathri,’ Aetos said, his voice scratchy, as though he didn’t use it often. ‘Everyone on the south side of the city has gone mad. People walking into the freezing river, jumping in front of moving wagons, or just disappearing into the forest. So many families have up and left their homes, some leaving full winter larders. Others have been found curled up, babbling to themselves, making no sense. Our medics can’t help them. Most have died. I’ve never seen a sickness like it.’
‘Who has died? People here? In Taban Yul?’ Palom asked.
‘Yes, most people on the outskirts. Whatever disease this is, whatever’s causing this, it hasn’t reached the inner city yet,’ Aetos replied. ‘No-one seems to know what to do. They say it’s an omen with Sapora in charge now.’
‘And of course, we’ve got the Varkain moving themselves in like they own the place,’ Kylos added. She grimaced at the mention of the race. ‘The snakes rarely come here. Never in winter, anyway. But, now…’
Lathri’s brow wrinkled in concern. ‘I know. It’s a worrying sign.’
‘Why don’t you talk to Princess Isa if you have concerns?’ Palom asked, sitting down beside Lathri at last. Though he hadn’t been in Taban Yul for over half a year, the city was still his home. If his fellow Ittallan had problems, it was down to the palace to fix them. ‘I know Princess Isa. Is that why you brought me here, Lathri? So that you could speak?’
‘Isa’s been compromised,’ Kylos said quickly, folding her arms. ‘With half the council gone thanks to her brother, there’s no Ittallan left in Val Sharis who’d trust her. Talking to her alone would be ideal…but she’s not stupid enough to meet strangers without an escort. Do you have that kind of influence?’
Palom shrugged. ‘No. But Princess Isa still cares about Taban Yul.’ The princess had been a little vain, of course, but she was royalty. It was to be expected. But compromised? ‘I can take you to her after funeral. Then, you will see.’
‘With Sapora listening to every word? Don’t make me laugh. She’s probably in league with the Varkain! She was at the ball, too, don’t forget,’ Kylos continued, clearly the most vocal of the three. ‘This war isn’t over by a long shot. We’ve just changed enemies.’
Palom sighed.
Lathri remained quiet, listening to the talk around her.
Aetos spoke again, ‘The snakes can wait. They’ve been at our doorstep since Linaria had four moons. They won’t go away any time soon. The problem is the sickness in the city.’
‘The sickness may pass. Sapora and his Varkain are a bigger threat,’ Voulhrik said, his deep voice rumbling.
‘Then talk to Imperial Guard!’ Palom said, exasperated. Whether there was a sickness in the city or they had concerns about the Varkain moving in, he didn’t see how it was his problem—or theirs.
‘The loyal ones have been killed. Those remaining in the Imperial Guard are in Sapora’s pocket now,’ Lathri said quietly. ‘Perhaps even those in Niversai, as well. They’ve always been our allies, and if his snakes have gotten their fangs into Corhaven’s capital… Half the world could be under his poison.’
‘Surely you saw they’re under Sapora’s thumb wh
ile you were swanning around in the palace?’ Voulhrik said with a sneer. ‘Or were you too busy counting your Varkain gold?’
The difference in behaviour from regular townsfolk to these three jarred Palom. ‘I was not swanning around!’
‘Voulhrik, I know you’re hurting. Don’t take it out on Palom,’ Lathri said. Heat emanated from her, diffusing the tension in the space of a few breaths, and Voulhrik backed down.
She rubbed her eyes, suddenly looking tired. ‘To answer your question, I’d hoped you would join us. You know Sapora and his ways. You know the princess. You could easily get into the Imperial Guard—especially after everything you’ve done against Aciel—and help influence things away from the Varkain. Sapora couldn’t refuse a fighter like you in his ranks. Voulhrik is doing what he can, but one palace worker isn’t enough. If we had someone in the thick of it, someone higher up, who knew what Sapora’s plots were…You could help find out what’s happening in the city, what they’re planning to do with the crystal now he has a guard set up there—’
‘Moroda is inside there!’ Palom bellowed, aware he was shaking but too angry to do anything about it. ‘It is not something to look into. It is burial site. She made blood oath with Sevastos to save your skins. Amarah and Kohl left Taban Yul to find way to break her free!’
Lathri blinked, taken aback. ‘But don’t you see? That’s why you should stay with us.’
Palom balled his hands as he fought to restrain his anger, fought against the urge to grab his sword. ‘You have not said what is your plan to do.’
‘Do you trust Sapora?’ Aetos asked.
Palom shook his head. ‘I don’t trust any Varkain.’
‘Exactly. At least Vasil kept the snakes to their tunnels. But this new king is young, a half-breed to boot, and more ambitious than any Varkain we’ve known. If he’s planning anything, I’ll bet a thousand crowns it’s against the Ittallan.’
Knowing Sapora, it wasn’t an unfair statement.
‘There’s been talk that Sapora plans to wipe us out. For good, this time.’ Voulhrik said, drawing their attention. ‘I’ve heard him talk of ancient powers, keys, seals…’
Palom swallowed and went very still.
‘He whispers of it to the Varkain he has guarding him. His personal guards. Only a handful of them. Whatever he’s cooking up, he’s keeping it quiet.’
Palom’s mind whirled. If Voulhrik was right...If those things had been mentioned...He shuddered to think what it could mean for the Ittallan.
‘Isa is one of us more than he is. We’d hoped she would one day be our queen, but it looks like we’ll be overrun by the Varkain before we can recover from Aciel’s attacks and get her in power,’ Lathri said, breaking Palom’s thoughts. ‘If it comes to it, we need to be ready to take charge against whatever Sapora has planned against us.’
Palom’s sword pulsed at his back. Conversation exploded around him. Why was Lathri leading this? Had she forgotten what Sapora did to those he disliked? What he’d done at the ball was the very reason her allies were all here.
Panic swelled, rising from his belly to his throat.
‘Lathri, stop this,’ he shouted, slamming his palms flat on the table. The sudden yell reverberated around the room. ‘You can’t fight Sapora. Alone, he’s stronger than any of you. Now he is ruling as king of Varkain and Ittallan. He is untouchable.’
Talk of ancient powers had changed things. Drastically.
If his fear was right, Sapora would ruin them all.
His heart pounded.
He had to get away. Had to get Lathri away. Before he lost someone else he loved.
‘I thought you were supposed to be a great warrior,’ Voulhrik said, sneering. ‘You’ve won a single battle and now you want to run? Some hero.’
‘I never said I was hero,’ Palom said, rising to his feet, Voulhrik mirroring the action. ‘I never asked to be one.’ He drew the sword from his back and pointed it across the table. ‘If it wasn’t for Moroda, Aciel would have beaten us hundred times over. Sapora is worse than upstart Arillian. You want my opinion and knowledge on him? Trust me. He is greater threat. If any of what you say is true, we cannot stand against him.’
‘Voulhrik. Palom. Please,’ Lathri said, raising her hands. ‘I said before that sword is too powerful. Think carefully about what you mean to do with it.’
Lathri’s energy wrapped around him. Palom felt his heartbeat in his throat, sweat on his forehead. He tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt.
All it would take was a flick of his wrist. A tiny, inconsequential movement, and Voulhrik’s head would be severed. His world dimmed, Lathri’s voice muffled as he focussed on his blade and the man who stood before it.
The weapon’s desire filled his mind, competing with Lathri’s magic, and his hand trembled.
‘I do not know all of Sapora’s power. I do not know if he is causing this…this…sickness in city. But I know enough to understand it is no safe place for Ittallan anymore. We should leave while we can. All of us. Now.’
‘Leave the city? The capital of Val Sharis? There’s no safer place in the world.’ Kylos scoffed.
‘With that snake here, it is now most dangerous place.’
Lathri’s magic intensified, and the hairs on Palom’s arms stood up. ‘Palom, we have a duty to our people. We can’t rely on the Imperial Guard as we have before. This sickness may not be Sapora. But we can’t run, or we’re handing victory to him. Aciel is gone thanks to you, but he’s paved the way for the next conqueror. We’ve enjoyed peace for far too long. We must be ready. We can’t turn against each other.’
It would take the tiniest movement.
‘Please.’
Glaring at Voulhrik, Palom lowered his sword, resting the tip on the table. ‘Lathri. Aciel’s war is over. Let Sapora rule. His father was king. By law, he has right to be here, even if we don’t like this. Now, he might be planning to kill all Ittallan…Why put yourself in danger? People die in wars.’
‘So you won’t help us?’ Desperation edged her voice.
‘Lathri, let’s get away from… from… this.’ He gestured to the table with his free hand. ‘I fought Mateli when I was sixteen. It was right thing to do. I lost people. I fought Aciel for same reason and lost more people. I won’t fight Sapora, too, or whatever darkness lurks in Taban Yul.’
His attention lingered on Lathri.
‘I’m not asking you to fight if you don’t wish to. But stand with us, Palom. Even you can’t run forever,’ Lathri pleaded.
Even with his Valta Forinja, Palom didn’t know if he could take on Sapora and all his Varkain. He didn’t want to come to blows with the snake, not if what he feared was true. He’d already been part of ending one war. Immediately starting another would be madness.
He closed his eyes.
‘I can’t.’
He turned away, ignoring their words as he left the room and exited the tavern.
It would be a cold funeral tomorrow.
* * *
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