Devour: Book Three of the Zoya Chronicles

by Kate Sander

  Carter shook his head, "That's impossible. Roald Ammondson died in 1911."

  8

  Tory

  The decorated gold and purple walls pulsed with the dream. The gold tribal symbol of the wasp was there, again, just like it was every time. The earth moved back and forth under her feet.

  "My dear Roald," the woman named Malin called from her chair. Tall, blonde, and just as gorgeous in Tory’s mind as she was the last time Tory visited this maggot. "Our visitor is here," the accented, sickly-sweet voice called.

  "No," Tory said to herself in her dream. Her body thrashed against the memory, but it was no use, she couldn't wake, not yet. Not until she let her.

  Roald stepped into the chamber.

  "No!" Tory yelled, writhing against what she knew was coming.

  "Yes, dearest Malin?" The broad shouldered blond man with short hair asked.

  Malin pointed at her. Tory tried to flee.

  "Not yet," said the insidious mind-maggot, her own voice talking to her in her dreams. "You're not done here yet."

  "Ah!" Roald said smoothly, opening his arms wide. "Welcome, dear stranger."

  This time she was allowed a step back. The dream mirrored reality, but as reality had been a vision, was there even a reality to be had?

  "You have no reason to be afraid," Roald said kindly with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  The dream did not wait to answer Tory's existential wondering.

  "You are an expected guest, Tory," Malin said.

  "How do you know my name?" Tory felt herself demanding. No. That's not what I want to ask. I want to ask why I'm here? Why is Black Eyes attached to me? But she didn't ask that in reality, so she couldn't ask that now.

  "We've had our eyes on you for a long time," Malin said over her screaming thoughts.

  "Since you were born, in fact," Roald added. "And please, sit and eat. I'm so sorry, we forget ourselves as hosts sometimes."

  "I'm good standing," Tory said. She tried to break the dream. She needed to get out.

  "Not yet," the maggot said. "You must watch it over and over."

  "Back to the point," Tory said, "why have you been watching me since I was born?"

  "Well that's not entirely true." Malin shot Roald a warning look.

  Tory had never picked up on that look before. In the weeks past, the nightly dream haunted her. She'd always been too frightened to pay attention.

  "Now you're getting it," the maggot said to her in her ear.

  "Your father was gifted with the opportunity to prove himself to our cause. It seems he did not free you from your earthly bonds as he led us to believe twenty years ago."

  Malin was mad at Roald for telling her that they had been looking for her.

  "Wait, you wanted him to kill me twenty years ago?" Tory was asking.

  "My dearest child. We offer salvation from the cruelty of this world. Your father was sent to free you from terrible decisions. That is our gift to you."

  "Well I'm not in a receiving mood," Tory said. The exhaustion hit, as it always did.

  Wake up, she sobbed. Just wake up. "Not yet," the dream maggot said, "you have to watch it all."

  "Why would you want to kill me in the first place?" Tory asked, though she didn't mean to. "What am I to you? I've neither heard of you, nor do we have a quarrel."

  Roald sent Malin a warning glance. "It was not aimed at you, specifically, child. We merely wanted to test your father's allegiance."

  "He's lying," came Black Eyes' voice in her ear. Tory didn't jump this time. She'd had this dream nightly since the event had occurred six weeks ago, and she was no longer surprised that Black Eyes was there.

  "If you're not with us, we will have to take that choice away from you."

  "You can't take any choice away from me," Tory said. "You can kill me, but I make my own choices."

  "Unfortunately, we can," Roald said softly.

  "It's for your own good," Malin said. "A small sacrifice of fear, then you won't have to make a decision again. We take away the burden."

  Tory took a step back and shrugged her bow off her shoulder.

  "It's for your own good, you know," Malin said, eyes downcast.

  Roald snapped his fingers.

  "Run!" Black Eyes yelled, but there was no time. Six Sun Gods ran into the room through the chamber doors. Tory went through the motions of taking her bow and shooting them down, but she knew what was coming in this dream.

  No, she pleaded, not again.

  "Watch," the dream said to her. "You did it, you watch what you did."

  An arrow whizzed by her shoulder. Tory couldn't stop herself, the dream was in control. She ducked, pivoted and fired all in one movement.

  "No!"

  Black Eyes was standing behind her. Beautiful, tall, elegant Black Eyes. She coughed, Tory's arrow sticking out of her chest.

  The dream flashed to the ridge overlooking the battle against the Sun Gods, the first time Tory shot Black Eyes. When she'd actually killed her all those years ago. The scent of the forest, of her home, assaulted her nose, causing a deep-seeded longing in her heart.

  Tory rushed to the dead woman's side. "Black Eyes, come back to me. I miss you."

  Black Eyes didn't answer. Her eyes darkened into black and she died, blood pooling from her chest.

  "Black Eyes, come back. I'm lonely, I miss you."

  Her eyes stayed dead.

  "She's ready for you, my dear."

  Tory turned to face Malin. This time she was in the Melanthios forest with the war raging all around them. Elegance and grace contrasting with the ravages of war.

  "Watch her now," the dream said. "Watch carefully."

  Malin stared into her eyes.

  "So noble," Malin said softly. "To be most afraid of taking a friend's life." Her eyes swam. Tory saw her reflection in the smoky green.

  "Closer," the dream hissed.

  Tory obliged. Malin could not hurt her in this dream. Instead of pulling away, Tory allowed herself to be drawn in.

  She sank deeper into her reflection in Malin’s eyes. She stared into the black pupil.

  A vision swam in the pupils. Much like her reflection, but softer. Roald, naked, floating in a clear tank of fluid, tubes coming out of his mouth.

  Tory fired awake and exploded to her feet. Pain erupted in her skull as she smoked the top of her head against the low roof of the cave she was sleeping in.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she exclaimed, collapsing back on to her blanket, holding her head.

  Rolling around on the floor, she clutched her head, breathing hard. The wind howled outside her cave, but she was warm and comfortable. The mountains of this new country offered lots of shelter from the storm, a much needed reprieve from the frozen tundra she had ventured over for weeks. The pain lessened and she rubbed her head. There was a definite bump forming but no lasting damage.

  Lying on her back, breathing hard, she relaxed and started processing the dream. The sun was starting to rise and her cave was turning a beautiful gold and red.

  The dream. It had been the same since her duel with Malin and Roald six weeks ago. The only reason she had escaped with her life was because of Black Eyes.

  "Well, Black Eyes and the Remiel," she muttered to herself. Talking to herself was the new norm. It kept the crushing loneliness at bay. "I hope Black Eyes heard my call and comes back to me."

  "Maybe she's avoiding you for a reason."

  "You're a real bitch in the mornings, you know that Tory?"

  Rolling over, she took the Remiel out of the pack that was shoved into the corner of the small cave. It was a ruby the size of her fist, given to her in a vision by the dead Shaman of her old village. Even that was hard to come to terms with.

  Rubbing her hands over the gem, she closed her eyes, thinking. What were those tanks she'd seen in Malin's eyes? Was it a vision? Was she projecting?

  She didn't think so. It looked like a reflection. Her mind was trying to tell her something, but she cou
ldn't see the full picture.

  She'd memorized every inch of the stone, going through the same motions every morning and before bed every night. There were rough edges all over the stone, making Tory think that bits had been chipped off. Staring into the center, she tried to recreate the burst of power that had thrown Malin and Roald across the room when Black Eyes had come to her defense in their chambers.

  Sweat poured down her face and her hands shook as she focused on the stone.

  Finally, she lowered it. Nothing. She couldn't get the stone to do... anything.

  "I can't even get Black Eyes back here," she muttered. "Real powerful stuff."

  Hunger pains hit her and she munched on dried seal meat as she packed up her cave and prepared for her journey. Her father (the vision of him frozen solid in the storm, mere feet away from the shack where she'd hidden, flooded her mind and Tory pushed it aside) had told her to cross the ice bridge into Anzen. He'd told her that answers could be found in a monastery in the mountains.

  "Whelp, I'm in the mountains," she muttered. "No monastery. No anything. Just more snow and ice."

  She dressed for the weather in seal skin and, shouldering her pack, ventured out the door.

  "About time you woke," a voice said directly beside her.

  Tory jumped so high she almost fell off the ledge outside the cave. A hand grabbed her coat to steady her.

  A man in a thick red robe holding a large walking stick sat cross-legged on the narrow ledge. Bald, with a lighter skin tone than Tory's, he looked old yet young at the same time.

  "I believe you are looking for us," he said serenely. "Would you like to come for tea?"

  Tory was so shocked that she could only nod.

  "Don't lose that stone of yours," he said, rising to his feet. "It's more important than you think."

  He turned and walked away on the ledge, following a path that Tory couldn't see.

  "Well, are you coming?" he chirped from over his shoulder. "I'm old and don't have all day."

  Tory picked her jaw up off the ground and followed the old man.

  Part II

  “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

  - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

  9

  Eris

  "Again!" Roald barked. "Do it again!"

  Eris was gasping for breath, chest heaving. "I can't," she managed to wheeze. Her knee was on the ground, sword stuck into the ground in front of her. The soft grass felt hard on her knee. "I can't do it again."

  "We do not yield," Roald said, walking up to her and standing over her. "You are an Ampulex Princess. You are a Zoya. You are a God. You do not yield, even if it means that you die from exhaustion."

  Eris' face turned red with shame. Roald's eyes softened.

  "Leave us," he barked at the men circling them. They bowed and obliged, walking silently away from the forest clearing.

  Eris kept her eyes down, refusing to meet her father's eye. A single tear fell from her face to the grass and Eris angrily wiped it away.

  Roald sat on the ground in front of her and she looked up in surprise. Roald was a King, sitting in the grass was far beneath him.

  "There she is," he said softly. "Why are you crying, dear one?"

  Eris looked into his striking blue eyes. He had short white hair and carried himself tall, godlike. Dressed in furs that should be too warm for the weather, he looked so odd sitting in the grass like a peasant.

  Eris was so shocked she could barely choke out an answer. "I'm not like you," she said. "I'm nothing. I don't know who I am."

  Roald smiled warmly. "We all started like you, once. All the Generals in the Ampulex army are Zoya, you know this. There have been over a hundred Zoya who have joined us since you awoke. Why do you think your mother and I adopted you and call you Princess and God? Why are you not a General?"

  Eris looked at her hands. They were darker than Roald’s and new calluses lined the palms. "Pity," she said.

  "I pity no one," Roald said sharply. "Pity kills. If I thought you were unworthy, I would have killed you when you awoke. You know this to be true, you've seen it happen."

  Eris nodded.

  "Again," Roald said. He jumped to his feet swiftly and drew his sword. "Do it again."

  Head reeling, Eris followed the old man to her feet. She wrenched her curved sword, called a khopesh, out of the ground and barely raised the metal up in time to block Roald's blow.

  "Harder," he snapped. "Block then counter. Always counter!"

  Eris narrowed her eyes. Roald swung hard and she blocked, then countered, aiming at his head. Swords rang, piercing the quiet afternoon air. Roald smiled.

  "Like that, dear one. Let's do it again."

  Exhausted, muscles aching, but content, Eris weaved her way through the Ampulex camp in the direction of her tent.

  A Forsaken lunged at her cage, mouth foaming, eyes wide, filed teeth gnawing between the bars. Eris jumped, she couldn't help herself.

  "Hey!" she yelled at the Worthless keeper. "Keep your Forsaken in line."

  The Worthless scrambled to the cage, giving the Forsaken a quick rap on the head with a stick. The Forsaken woman squealed and retreated to the corner of the cage on all fours, wallowing in her own filth. Disgusted, Eris turned to the Worthless, a young man of about twenty. "Keep your charge in line, or I will take you to Queen Mother and you will join this Forsaken in her cage. Do I make myself clear?"

  Her voice wavered slightly but she kept his eye. If the Worthless noticed the quaver, he didn't make it known. "I'm sorry, Princess," he said, keeping his eyes lowered. "I will keep my charge in line."

  Eris nodded, face flushed in embarrassment. "Good. Now... Er... Carry on."

  The Worthless dropped to one knee. "Yes, dear lady."

  Eris strode away, trying to keep her back straight as Roald had taught her. Her Zoya Generals followed, marching in two rows of three. Queen Mother told her they were hers to command, but Eris knew they were for her protection. Whatever King Father said, she knew they didn't trust her to look after herself. Generals were adorned in black armour at all times. Worthless had the colours of the region they belonged to as normal wear, but in battle they wore gold. The Forsaken were less than human, so they were kept naked. There was no need to dress a sub-human.

  The camp spread out over a mile, with separate campfires, cages, and tents for people of different regions. When the Ampulex swept a region, Queen Mother and King Father gave every person a choice. They could join the Ampulex, obey without question or hesitation, and become a Worthless. Or, they could fight. If they did, Queen Mother, with all her power, would wipe their memories, their fears, their hopes. They would become a Forsaken, a gnawing, growling sub-human who only had the most basic instincts: fucking and feeding. Queen Mother left their fear of pain and made sure they obeyed the Worthless and the Generals without question. The Ampulex had thousands of Forsaken, a hoard of muscle and hate to unleash whenever they saw fit.

  The Generals were all Zoya. They used to have one General to a thousand Worthless and control was becoming impossible. But then, Queen Mother and King Father, in all their glory, orchestrated an influx of Zoya. Now there were a hundred more Generals, all training hard to learn the ways of the Ampulex and master their Zoya powers. Only when the world was united under the Ampulex flag could humanity know peace.

  A Worthless ran toward her. Her Generals flanked her quickly and drew their weapons. The Worthless sank to her knees in front of Eris.

  "Hold," Eris commanded. "Speak, Worthless."

  "Queen Malin and King Roald wish to speak with you, Princess," the Worthless gasped.

  "Rise," Eris said. The Worthless did so immediately. "Thank you for your message. Generals," they sheathed their weapons as one, "you are dismissed."

  They bowed in unison and dispersed. Eris hurried for the monarchs’ tents. Princess or not, she knew not to keep the King and Queen waiting.
<
br />   The guard opened the tent door for her and she swept inside, hand on her khopesh. Malin and Roald were sitting in their tent. They traveled with the most expensive of luxuries taken from their conquered realms. Rich tapestries covered the walls of their tent, colours weaving together to tell the tales of the lands where they were woven. Thick wool rugs covered the floors, kept so soft and clean that Malin preferred her feet bare. Heavy oak furniture was set throughout the tent, all with golden and pearl inlays, taken from the richest of men. The Ampulex symbol, the symbol of the Gods, hung on a flag on the back wall, a Golden wasp, elegantly drawn.

  Malin smiled at her warmly as she entered. Eris sunk to one knee, keeping her eyes down. The scent of sweet perfumes and honey reached her and she smiled to herself. It smelled like home.

  "Rise, dearest daughter," Malin said. "Worthless!" She barked, "Lay some wood over my carpet, I don't wish my daughter to have to remove her shoes."

  A couple of Worthless, elders who were useless in battle, clambered to oblige. Eris rose and waited. She did not wish to anger the Queen Mother.

  "Queen Mother, King Father. You wished to speak to me?"

  "Yes, dearest one," Malin said. "There is a man in our other tent. We wish to speak with him and thought that you'd like to accompany us?" She spoke lightly, soft words dancing. She phrased it as a question, but Eris knew it was a command. The Queen Mother was not to be disagreed with.

  "Of course, Queen Mother," Eris said. "I wouldn't miss it."

  "Good," Malin said. "Shoes!" she barked. Worthless hurried and strapped shoes to her feet, then covered the carpet with wood to save its cleanliness. Eris followed her parents through the tent door to an adjacent tent.

  The contrast was stark. This tent was lined with metal cages kept on bare ground, guarded by Worthless. The smell of piss, shit and blood reached her. A single wooden chair was in the center of the room. It waited, empty, for its next victim.