“Let me make it clear for you, fool.” I grabbed her blue-black hair at the skull and smashed the side of her face against what was remaining of the tattered mirror. “When I ask you a question, you answer immediately, with all the knowledge in your little brain and no attempt at cleverness to waste my time. Do you understand, pet?”
She blubbered something fearfully and I pulled her face away from the glass shards.
“I am sorry, Mistress! Please forgive me,” was what I thought she said. It looked like part of the woman’s tongue had been cut off and blood flew from her mouth quicker than the words did.
“Good. Now we are starting to understand each other. You no longer serve my father. You serve me.” She moaned and bloody tears streamed down her face. “If you decide to try being more cunning than I am, I’ll cut your body into pieces and feed the parts to the dogs. I’ll start with your legs and arms so you can watch them feast upon you. Wake the fuck up!” I shook her head and smashed it into the wall again as she looked like she was going to faint from the pain. Blood was all over my hands, arms, and the front of the beautiful silver dress. “As I am sure you are aware, I do not make empty threats.”
“Yes, Mistress. I will serve you faithfully.”
“Excellent.” I dropped her body back into the glass and stepped clear of the mess. “When I come back you and I will spend the night discussing everything you know about this tribe. I need to know who is loyal to you, and where you get your information. We’ll do it over some wine and dessert, so have it prepared.” She nodded and forced herself to stand in the puddle of broken glass. Her face and clothes were covered in blood. I hoped that she would heal quickly, she had been quite beautiful, and I would have preferred her tongue intact. I almost felt remorse for what I had done to the woman.
But fear without the occasional use of force was just simple anxiety.
“Where is the dining hall?”
“It is on the ground floor under this room. West wing. I will take you.”
“No. Clean this mess up, replace the mirror, prepare dessert, and wait for me to return. I can find it on my own.”
“Yes, Mistress. But Mistress, you are covered in my blood.” I inhaled the scent of rosemary through the blood and her fear.
“Oh well.” I walked back through the foyer and out into the hallway. There was a small group of human slaves who bowed before me. They reeked of shit, piss, and other related scents of fear and inferiority that made me cover my nose briefly before I passed them. Fucking humans.
“You are late, Iolarathe. What happened to your dress?” my father said when I entered the dining hall. There were sixteen other finely dressed men and women sitting around the long table. They did a poor job of concealing their shock.
“I had to discipline one of your servants on my way here.” The table was rectangular in shape, with eight seats on each side and one at each head. My father occupied the seat farthest from the door and a male elder, Vuma, I guessed, sat at the other head.
“You are in my seat,” I said to the man.
“Excuse me?” There were too many scents in the room mixing with the food for me to pick out his, but his facial expression was as expected.
“You are sitting in my chair. Move!” I commanded.
“No, girl. This is my seat,” he scoffed and glared at me.
“Do you see the blood on my dress? Any additional red will only improve it at this point.”
“Are you threatening me?” He forced a laugh and then turned to my father. “This brat needs some manners beaten into her.”
I pulled on the World and then flung out Air. I wanted to roast him alive, but the suddenness of his body flying from the seat and smacking into the stone wall of the hall thirty feet from the table was satisfying in its own way. There was a screech of swords being drawn from the various armed individuals in the room, but I only counted four weapons. The fact that they didn’t attack me immediately made me think they would never have the audacity to do it.
“As I was saying.” I picked up the plush leather chair and sat it right side up at the table. I slid into it and crossed my legs under the dress. “This is my seat.” The broken man against the wall moaned in pain but did not move. Nor did anyone else in the room.
“Father.” His face was as white as the sheets on my bed and his mouth hung open. He looked like he was turning back into rock. “Why don’t you introduce me to your elders and their descendants? Start with the one who thought this seat was more important than his life.” I gestured to Vuma and smiled at my audience.
Chapter 7-The O’Baarni
The islands floated across endless heavens. From my perch on the edge of the cliff I could see a vast sea of blue sky, white clouds, and tiny pinpricks of emerald green islands dotting the horizon like dark stars. I held my breath and turned the island around again. In the center of the island was a small cluster of tropical trees, grass spread over the ground like splattered paint, and not much else.
I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to remember how I got here. I could not even remember my name. Suddenly I knew I was Kaiyer, and with that recollection everything else followed, I remembered every other important event in my life up until I was captured by my former friends. Shlara was alive.
“Maybe you are dead?” a man said behind me. It was a voice I would have recognized anywhere and anytime. I turned around to face the old man and he appeared as I always remembered: short, skinny, with long wispy white hair and a goofy monkey grin on his face.
“Entas?” His name left my mouth in a whisper of surprise.
“Hello, Kaiyer.” He smiled wide and took a few steps toward me. He held his thin bamboo cane in his right hand and his shuffle was as I remembered.
“You are dead.” The words came out of my mouth before I had a chance to consider them.
“Oh sure, but you are missing the obvious question.” He made his usual chuckle.
“Am I dead?” My stomach dropped.
“Are you?” He smiled and squinted at me. He was close enough now to touch, but I didn’t dare.
“I don’t feel dead.” I realized how stupid the words sounded as soon as they left my mouth. How would I know how it felt to be dead?
“If you are dead, don’t you think you would remember how you died?” He bobbed his head like an owl. Perhaps this was a dream. But when I dreamed I normally woke up when I realized it was a dream.
“I don’t remember dying.” I remembered being dragged back to my cell after the horrifying meeting with Shlara. I remembered pacing the dank cell for hours.
“Ahh. Then you must not be dead. Although, you do have a bit of a problem with your memory.”
“I do?”
“Of course. I’ve spent thousands of lifetimes trying to figure out why. Best guess I have is that it is some sort of coping mechanism. It has made my job quite difficult.” He snickered again.
“Entas. I have no idea what you are talking about. I never understood your riddles. Is this a dream?” He opened his eyes and for a moment anger flashed across his face. I had never seen the expression. My second father had always been in a humorous mood.
“I suppose you could call this a dream. This is where they are made. But everything is made here. Life, death . . . it is an intersection of sorts. You could look upon it all,” he winked at me and grinned, “if you had the right perch, that is.”
“How did I get here?”
“Same way you get anywhere. You decide that you want to go and then you act upon those desires. I have a better question for you: Why did you decide to come here?”
“Why do you always turn this around on me? Just give me a straight answer!” He didn’t look angry anymore, but I was.
“Ah, my friend.” He shook his head. His long white hair danced around his shoulders. “I have tried that. Thousands of times. It only led to destruction. This time, I explained nothing, and still you’ve come so far. I have decided that next time I won’t even introduce myself. I’l
l just watch from a distance.”
“Now I know I’m not dead. You just gave me a headache.” I rubbed my eyes at the bridge of my nose and tried to make sense of his words.
“Recall what I said about this place. Really think about it. Then tell me why you are here.”
“I don’t know!” I screamed at him. My head was pounding.
“You didn’t even think about it. You just replied. Damn it! Think. I can’t do everything for you.” He sat down cross-legged on the dirt in front of me and set his cane over his legs. “Start by putting what I said into your own words.”
“You said this is where dreams, life, and death are created. You said it is a crossroads and you could see everything from the right position.” The words came out slowly and my head continued to throb.
“Good. So if I believe that, and you believe that, then why are you here?”
“Fuck my head hurts.” I was used to pain, but this felt like my brain was twice the size of my skull and beating on the insides.
“Another defense your body has. Answer the question.”
“I . . . I . . .” I just wanted to lie down and die. I couldn’t think of a way to escape my cell, I couldn’t save Iolarathe, I couldn’t fix Shlara or repair the relationships I had damaged with my generals.
“I wanted to change.”
“What did you want to change?” he raised an eyebrow.
“The past. I’ve made so many mistakes.”
“Ahh!” He jumped up suddenly and did a little dance with his bamboo cane. “This is wonderful! You almost did it!”
“Almost did what?” I didn’t know if it was his silly dance or the glee on his face that was driving my headache but I almost felt normal.
“Figured out why you are here. So close! I will try not to get too excited, but I’ve been waiting much too long to reach this point with you. Keep talking.”
“My brain must tie the concept of change with you. That is why I am dreaming of you right now.”
He sighed and I realized that was not the answer he wanted. “You can’t change the past. Especially if you are dead.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t dead.”
“I said no such thing. I asked if you remembered dying. Do you?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Nothing means anything until you give it meaning.” He chuckled maniacally and leaned back on the dirt.
“Fuck Entas. So I am dead?” The headache had returned full force.
“If you were dead, but woke up not dead, what would you think that meant?” He smiled slightly and hooted like an owl.
“Death is permanent. Everyone dies.”
“Perhaps you aren’t everyone? But we aren’t making any more progress. You should wake up and think about it some more. I’ll be here when you need me.”
His words echoed in my head a hundred times, a thousand more, and then I woke up on the cold stone floor of my cell.
Chapter 8-Kaiyer
But it was not the cold stone floor of my cell. I woke up in a tree two hundred feet off the forest floor. My first few seconds of consciousness left me scrambling madly for something physical to touch or smell to ground myself in this time. If I had not secured myself to the branch before falling asleep I would have spun off the limb in confusion and made a Kaiyer puddle on the distant dirt beneath my perch.
Did I dream of Entas, or did I remember a time I had dreamed of him? The question, along with the cryptic ones he had posed in the dream, occupied my mind for the few minutes it took to untie myself from the tree. I determined that there were no Elven scouts nearby before scrambling spider-like down the trunk of the massive evergreen.
It was midsummer, and the forest that separated Nia’s southern border from Brilla hugged the edge of the canyon like a green blanket. I knew I was a few days’ journey from Nadea’s keep, but I was unsure of my exact location. I doubted there would be Elven scouts in these unexplored woods, but since the empress had not recovered my body, she would be searching for me.
Prior to ascending the tree the night before, I had heard the sound of a small creek a hundred yards to my east. I walked toward it now and eventually passed through the thick forest canopy and into a glade the water had carved. The flow was not strong, but it was quick enough to keep the stream fresh. The creek and a bed of lime-colored moss flanked by blackberry bushes convinced me to break my fast here before continuing my journey.
I opened the cloth traveling satchel that Janci provided and pulled out the last of the smoked fish, hard cheese, and carrots. I did not feel hungry, but I had only eaten a tiny amount in the last two weeks of travel and I was close enough to the keep to justify consuming the rest of my provisions.
The bag also contained some herbs, salt, pepper, and a flagon of water that I promptly drained and refilled in the creek. Then I set about eating the small meal while I considered Entas.
The old man had always been a mystery. Aside from a few sklads who somehow traveled nomadically and undetected by the Elvens, all of the humans of my time were enslaved. Except Entas. Not only had he spent his long life living freely, he possessed the power of the Elements and a mastery of them that could have only come from decades of patient practice. I had asked him about his life, what he had done prior to saving Thayer and me from our Elven pursuers, but he had evaded my questions and turned them around to ask me for details about my own life. I still wondered who changed him, who taught him, how he had managed to live freely in the mountains.
He was indirect in his instruction, posing riddles or using cryptic, unfamiliar phrases to teach me of our magic, war strategy, and leadership tactics for our army.
There were plenty of times he frustrated me immensely, but when I carefully thought through his words, I always found the answer and realized how brilliant his seemingly crazy technique really was.
Maybe that would happen with the questions he posed in this dream.
As I considered his words and their deeper meaning it soon became apparent that I would not find the answers now. I was too distracted by my current situation and the traveling yet ahead of me. The answers would come, as they always did, when my mind was clear and unburdened by other obligations.
I finished my meal and gathered a few handfuls of berries for dessert. They were more tart than sweet, but the juice refreshed my palate and further prodded memories of Jessmei to the surface of my consciousness. She would have appreciated this picnic and would have delighted even more in the process of picking and eating the fruit. My heart ached at the memory of her and I wondered again what had transpired the night I had infiltrated the castle to rescue her and Nadea.
I recalled going to Nadea’s room with Danor, Runir, and Beltor. I knew that I had intended to tell Nadea about her mother, but then . . . my memory faltered and broke pace with the familiar headache. It was the same pain I felt in the dream with Entas. Why did I have these pains? My healing abilities should have prevented them. Any physical discomfort was only temporary until my magic fixed the injury, yet there were giant holes in my memory that caused immense pain when I tried to recall them.
Was my mind trying to protect me? Were the memories so horrible that something deep within my consciousness was punishing me for wanting to relive them? When Nadea and Paug had first awoken me, I remembered little more than my name. Now my memories were nearly complete, as far as I knew. I recalled an entire lifetime of struggle against the Elvens, the camaraderie I had developed with my generals, the internal war with my feelings for Iolarathe and Shlara. I remembered saving and then betraying my people on the same battlefield. I remembered the aftermath of those choices. Surely there could be nothing more devastating to protect me from than what I had already remembered. Perhaps I just needed more time, and the missing parts of my past would be made clear.
I filled up my water bottle again from the creek and then splashed some on my face. The memory of twisting through the underground river beneath Nia flashed through my min
d and I remembered that there were more secrets beneath the castle than the river. The ruins of the strange buildings and a Radicle were entombed beneath the great fortress. If the Elvens had chased me into the catacombs, they could have taken possession of the temple as well as the Ovule I left there. Maybe I escaped under the dungeons without their notice? Perhaps they had followed me down there and the hives of deadly wurms had destroyed them.
I stood from the brook and continued my journey eastward, first on deer trails and then on roads that were only wide enough for two people to walk abreast. I was tempted to run but instead just jogged. The terrain was rocky and steep in some points, and while there was some cover from various oak and cedar trees, I wanted to keep my senses sharp for possible Elvens. Even my jogging speed was faster than a horse trot and I could do it all day without tiring.
I saw little evidence of human presence on these trails. Even after I had traveled until the sun was past its peak I did not see or smell anyone else in the countless valleys, ridges, and canyons I crossed. The feeling almost reminded me of the years I had spent alone tracking Iolarathe through the wilderness of my native world. Back then I was avoiding my own people, now I would have appreciated a break for conversation and companionship, no matter how brief. I feared no one on this planet.
There is nothing more dangerous than me within a few thousand miles.
The jagged points of the Teeth were a constant companion. They were visible from the towers of Nia’s castle, but I had not realized how huge they were. Even after weeks of travel they had only grown marginally larger, yet they dominated the skyline. I made it to the top of the next tall valley and let out a slow whistle of appreciation.
The east side of the country lay before me. It spread like an endless green bowl of glass cracked by fine blue rivers and tiny blemishes of stone. The sun hung about three quarters through the sky and shone from the perfect spot in the west to highlight the endless miles of unspoiled land. To my right I saw the foothills of the Teeth: emerald mounds of soft grass punctuated with what looked like grains of sand from this distance, but they were actually massive boulders.
The Destroyer Book 4 Page 7