“You are sick … I thought kheshlars didn’t get sick,” Divinity said.
“It is rare … my lady,” Starlyn said.
Starlyn heard slight moans in the distance coming from Evangeline. They echoed in the stone room. She hadn’t heard a peep out of Frederick and wondered if he died or passed out, if Evangeline would even stop. She was there for one thing only, and it wasn’t pleasure.
Divinity noticed Starlyn’s attention and glanced into the darkness. She smiled as she raised a finger in the air, sending magic to light the bodies of Evangeline and Frederick. Frederick lay motionless on the ground with Evangeline straddling him. Starlyn turned her head away in disgust.
“Do you not agree with our … customs … kheshlar?” Divinity asked.
“I do not understand it, my lady,” Starlyn said.
“Men are weak-minded. They have strong bodies, but they are weak-minded and easily corrupted. We find the strong ones and bring them here so we can reproduce the strongest females. We are better thinkers, better fighters, and all around better than men.” Divinity smiled.
“Yet … you still need them, my lady,” Starlyn said.
“Yes … it is unfortunate. It is a shame we cannot reproduce amongst ourselves.”
“What do you want with me, my lady?” Starlyn asked.
“An heir.” Divinity smiled.
Starlyn stared at her in disbelief. She meant to force a man upon her, solely because she wanted an heir to her kingdom. Starlyn gasped as she realized Divinity wanted an heir who could rule for an eternity. A world run by women with men as their slaves. It was unthinkable.
“It cannot be done. Kheshlars aren’t meant to reproduce with other species … my lady,” Starlyn croaked.
“Ah … but only because it has never been done. You are going to be our first test,” Divinity said.
“I am sick … weak … you must let me go. I am seeking a cure,” Starlyn pleaded.
Divinity’s eyes turned scarlet again, and her whip slashed at Starlyn’s cheek. This time it struck a hairsbreadth above the last mark, and both marks burned with such intensity that Starlyn felt near unconsciousness.
“Not anymore, and you will learn to show me respect,” Divinity said.
Starlyn saw the three Ikchani women strut away, followed by the fourth, who climbed off an unconscious Frederick. Evangeline smiled into the dark, holding her belly, before following Divinity out of the room. It was the last thing Starlyn saw before she faded into a deep sleep.
Chapter 19
Searon was in a daze of confusion, and he didn’t know what to do next. Anaela sat next to Elsargast, holding his hand and sobbing. Searon pulled her away, helping her to stand next to him. Blood soaked one of her hands, and it was also on her armor. Searon looked at the lifeless body and sighed. Often, Searon had wished the king could have seen the bigger picture, and would have helped sooner. It might have caused less grief, but there was no time to think ill of the dead. No, it was time to honor his life.
Vil’ek limped into the room and stared at Searon and Anaela for a moment before his gaze fell to his king. His knees became weak, and he fell to the ground, crying out.
“Nooo!” Vil’ek shouted. The air that was once quiet, broke with sobs. It was the loudest sound from a kheshlar Searon had ever heard.
For the first time, Searon saw tears cascading along Vil’ek’s face. Searon couldn’t even imagine how long the guard had spent under the service of the king, but he had been his right-hand man, and Searon couldn’t imagine the pain the kheshlar was going through.
Searon walked to the kheshlarn warrior and rested his hand on Vil’ek’s shoulder. The kheshlar looked to Searon, tears welling in his eyes, and clasped his hand on top of Searon’s. Vil’ek pinched his eyes closed. When they opened, they were bloodshot. He seemed to gather his courage, and stood with the help of Searon. Vil’ek walked over to his king. Bowing, he took the king’s hand in his and gently kissed it.
“Where is his sword?” Vil’ek asked.
“Arria took it,” Searon said.
Vil’ek clenched his teeth. He turned back to his king and let his facial features relax. Carefully, Vil’ek lifted the king into his arms and turned for the door.
“Is it true?” a strong voice asked.
Karceoles stood in the doorway. His mouth hung open as he stared at Vil’ek and the king in his arms. All the playful energy usually filling the wizard’s face was gone. Vil’ek tried to move past him, but Karceoles blocked the way, staring at the king with widened eyes. He touched Elsargast’s forehead, and an orange glow left his fingertips, but nothing else happened. Karceoles shook his head and stared at the ground. Vil’ek once again tried to slip past him, but the wizard grabbed the kheshlar’s arm.
“My lord, there is an army on its way … there is no time for serenity for the king. In his absence, you are to make decisions until a new heir to the throne is properly appointed. You are needed.” Karceoles bowed slightly for the first time toward a kheshlar.
Vil’ek looked from his king to the wizard and gulped. He seemed to know the old man was right, and looked around for anything at his disposal. His eyes came in contact with Anaela, and she immediately bowed to him.
“Anaela … find me six kheshlar maidens to properly prepare the king for his burial,” Vil’ek ordered.
“At once, my sire,” Anaela responded before dashing out of the room.
The three stood silent, awaiting Anaela’s return. After a few minutes, Anaela returned, followed by six kheshlarn maidens. All of the kheshlarn maidens wore white dresses with veils covering their faces. Vil’ek gently handed Elsargast’s body over to the maidens, and with three standing on each side, they effortlessly carried him out of the room.
“My lord …” Searon broke the silence.
“Right … we must prepare the men. Karceoles … how far out are they?” Vil’ek asked.
“They will arrive after nightfall.”
“Then we will prepare for Elsargast’s funeral at dusk. Let everyone know to be suited up and ready for battle. I must prepare the kheshlars, excuse me,” Vil’ek said.
He spun around, his violet cape rippling in the air as he strode out of the room.
Vil’ek observed his reflection, a grim expression on his face. His fist clenched and drained the washcloth before he streaked it across his armor. He needed to be presentable as a leader. Blood and dirt on his armor certainly wouldn’t do. The memory of his king haunted him. He’d failed to protect Elsargast. Vil’ek’s job for so many years was to be there for his king, and the one time Elsargast needed him … he had failed. He fell weak against Arria’s tricks, and should have known better. Vil’ek had fallen for her tricks before, her tales of love between them. Even though she had been a kheshlar back then, he still didn’t know if any of it were truth.
He threw the cloth in the sink when he finished, staring into the mirror. His armor sparkled … yet his face was still clouded with gloom. His fist clenched. He shattered the glass, destroying the reflection of him. Turning, he stormed out of the door. Nothing could prepare them for the upcoming funeral.
Every kheshlar in the city stood in front of them. They quietly talked amongst themselves outside the palace, next to the great tree. Anaela stood in front, nodding to him, signaling everyone had been accounted for. He returned her nod, acknowledging her understanding, grateful for her assistance.
“Today is a grave day. As some of you have heard … the king is no more. There will not be time to appoint a new one properly, therefore I am temporarily taking charge. His funeral will be at dusk. Everyone will attend. Be dressed for battle. The enemy arrives after nightfall. We shall give our king a proper funeral before they arrive, but we must be ready when they come.” Vil’ek sighed. “Everybody is dismissed.
Candles burned along a line of kheshlars on two sides, creating a long pathway to walk between. On each side of the lines stood crowds of people, kheshlar and human alike. They stood in the center of the
sparring field, watching it glow in the translucent setting sun. The entire area filled with thousands of kheshlars and humans. Vil’ek observed from atop the small hill in the center of the field.
Vil’ek felt proud to see kheshlars and humans honoring his king. Of course, he couldn’t forget the wizard and mage who accompanied the humans. Strangely, the wizard’s personality seemed to have relented at the death of the king, and Karceoles kept silent in respect. It pleased Vil’ek to see his king honored highly.
Searon stood atop the hill by his side. Vil’ek had asked the human to stay by his side for the ceremony. Change had been long overdue for the kheshlars. The time had come to finally unite with the humans. Vil’ek knew Elsargast had respected Searon immensely. Vil’ek couldn’t think of anyone more worthy than Searon to complete the ritual with.
The kheshlars began to sing a low melody, which soon carried throughout the entire crowd. Impressively, the humans began chanting it as well when they learned the words. He glanced to all the kheshlars and humans in front of him before turning to see Searon eying the crowd as well.
“Let us begin,” Vil’ek announced.
Soon Vil’ek joined the soothing song. Searon appeared reluctant to follow, but as he looked around to see all of his friends, including Karceoles, chanting the song, he soon followed.
Forever will you be our king,
To light the way for us to see
If not for you we would be lost
Forever dark we would be
Now it is you who is lost
Do not fear, sire
For it is our turn to light your way
Come and join us
One last time our king
Forever will you watch over us
Guide us if it is your will
Rest, our gracious lord.
Let peace overcome you
Breathe in the taste of nature
As you become one with it.
They watched as the kheshlarn maidens brought forth the king on a gold metal plate, presented in his royal armor, newly shined and polished. His hair was tucked behind his ears, revealing their excessive points, and a partial smile softened the severity of his face. White flowers flew around him from various kheshlars who tossed them in the crowd.
When the maidens arrived, they paused for Vil’ek’s approval. He stared at his king, who seemed to be in a peaceful solemn sleep. Smiling at his former master, he kissed his index and middle finger before placing them on Elsargast’s forehead. Next, Searon walked forth, bowing before the king. For several moments he held his head down, allowing the crowd time to fall silent. After a pause, he stood, took a necklace from under his armor, and placed it on the king. The necklace resembled a circular silver shield with a ruby pendant in its heart. It glittered before seeming to glow once Searon placed it on the king.
Vil’ek nodded to the maidens, who slowly lowered the king into a hole. Even though their faces hid behind veils, sobs of the women could be heard, and their gowns became drenched with tears. Not a single kheshlar in the crowd refrained from shedding tears. Vil’ek kept busy wiping away his own, before turning back to the crowd, awaiting the next guest.
Aliqua walked through the candle-lit passage to Vil’ek, where she bowed. She stood out more than anybody as the only kheshlar with chocolate skin. She wore her black-and-silver armor chest plate and skirt, with purple robes. She held out an item for the crowd to see. Everyone gasped in awe.
She walked over to the hole and dropped the glowing seed to rest with the king. She bowed before returning to the crowd. Four male kheshlar warriors walked to the front. They began shoveling dirt over the king. Once the dirt became packed, everyone stood back, looking at the fresh grave.
Searon turned to Vil’ek. “What did Aliqua have?”
“The seed of life,” Vil’ek replied. He continued to stare at the fresh grave.
“What’s th—”
“No questions. Watch and you will understand,” Vil’ek said.
The ground trembled, shaking violently until a sprout emerged from the soil where Elsargast rested. Everyone watched in awe as the sprout grew larger and larger, taking the form of an evergreen tree. It grew taller and larger before them. It took several minutes to quit growing, sprouting almost as large and wide as the eternal palace tree.
Vil’ek stepped forward, pressing his hand on the trunk of the new tree. “Welcome home, my king. May you watch over us for generations to come.”
Chapter 20
The breeze blew furiously at dusk, pushing against Arria’s already cold face. She led the army in the front, pushing them hard to continue without any breaks. A few had been weak, wanting breaks, but they met the sharp end of her blade. Weakness would not be acceptable to her, she refused to tolerate it. If the long hike to the south of Sudegam became too much for them, then what use would they be in battle?
She knew the kheshlars would expect an attack from the north. Arria figured they would have the east and west covered as well, but the south was where she wanted to attack. They had to travel all the way around the kheshlarn capital while being far enough away to not arouse suspicion. She had lived in Sudegam long enough to know where its weakest point was. The southern border of the road leading into the city expanded in all directions, making a scattered push attack ideal.
Arria knew why Sudegam had its design. Elsargast had no enemies south. There were allied kheshlar towns and faerie towns, but the kheshlars had been smart enough to not be their enemy. Arria remembered tales of the two races once being allied before, thousands of years ago in a war against dragons, but she hadn’t been old enough to know for sure. There hadn’t been sight of a dragon in so long. Everyone believed them extinct.
Arria hushed the draeyks, trying to keep them quiet as she tiptoed forward to glance through the opening. What she saw surprised her. She had been right to assume the kheshlars wouldn’t be worried about the southern border, but she saw humans being led by the same stubborn man with the claymore she had fought. They protected the south entrance. He stood next to the pearly white gates surrounded by an army of men and a captain. The walls were too large to climb. They would have to use the entrance. Trees surrounded the gate, continuing inside.
The army posed a threat, but it was still the best route inside the city. She could smell the fear in the night air. The smell pleased her. Her favorite scent was fear. She spun around to bark orders. She stopped when she noticed kheshlars in the trees.
“Attack from above!” Arria yelled.
The confused daerions and draeyks looked everywhere until one fell to the ground in a blast of magic. Her army cried out in terror. Some removed crossbows from their backs to loose bolts at the kheshlars hiding in the trees. Their bolts bounced off shields of magic.
Arria scanned the trees, noticing dozens of kheshlars blasting magic toward them. She remembered the days when the kheshlars feared all magic. That was until …
“Aliqua …” Arria whispered.
The kheshlars had always been scared to use magic until Aliqua, the dark-skinned kheshlar, showed up. She’d showed them spells of nature and healing, but they had continued being scared of black magic. The black magic Arria had to use to save Mother … and it would have saved Mother if not for …
The thought of her mother had her mind scattered, filled with anger and hate. Hate toward the kheshlars, especially the kheshlars who cursed her magic, while they had no problem using their own. Her chance to eliminate them had come.
“Everybody, loose bolts into the trees. Keep them busy. Hit what you can!” Arria yelled.
The draeyks and daerions obeyed orders, fear of the undead kheshlar coming to tear them apart herself lighting their eyes. Meanwhile, Arria licked her lips as she ran toward a tree, removing two short blades from her sash. She jumped in the air, thrusting the daggers into the tree, climbing swiftly with her weapons. Pieces of bark slid off the tree, crashing to the ground. The nature of the tree didn’t matter to her though, as only the speed
with which she reached the treetops mattered. She wanted the chance to meet her attackers.
When she arrived at the top of the tree, she landed on a branch with another kheshlar, who stared at her in awe. The look satisfied Arria, and she smiled with pleasure as she charged the woman, slicing her in the chest and abdomen. She watched with warmth filling her as the kheshlar’s lifeless body dropped from the tree, crashing below, where the daerions tore her body to shreds.
She leaped to another tree, where a terrified male kheshlar in with blue robes stood. She found it foolish the spell casters chose to travel without armor. They wouldn’t be able to maneuver well with heavy armor, and using magic didn’t require the use of melee weapons … until now. Arria licked her lips again as she swiftly ran for the kheshlar, dodging a few magic blasts along the way. She didn’t look behind, where a part of the branch where she had stood was blasted away with magic, crashing to the ground. The kheshlar struck her hand with a mace, knocking one of Arria’s daggers from her hand. Arria held the remaining dagger tight with both hands, deflecting another blow. She lunged forward, knocking the kheshlar into the trunk before switching her weapon.
With her flamberge in her hand, she felt much more confident sparring with the kheshlarn magician. For being a spell caster, the kheshlar seemed quite familiar with the use of a mace, but he still proved to be far less skilled than Arria. She triumphed by chopping his hand off. With one last grin, she sliced his neck, letting him fall from the tree branch. These magician kheshlars are far too easy.
A blast knocked Arria off her feet. She sat on the branch in shock, searching for her attacker. As soon as she found the female redheaded kheshlar, her face glowed in anger. She stood, only to be knocked down by another blast. The blast came from a male kheshlar on the same tree as the redhead. His blond hair was tied in braids in the front, and the wind caught the rest, blowing it behind his head.
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