by A J Gala
“We know enough,” Lilu said. “And we can’t possibly be surprised that whatever is going on is Louvita’s stupid idea. I wonder if Ziaul is in on it.”
“It seems idealistic for him. Rather idealistic for Louvita, too, don’t you think? I mean, you used to spend a lot of time with her. You would know. I almost took you two for friends.”
Lilu’s lips curled up into a snarl for a second, and then she turned away and started to pace the terrace. “Louvita isn’t doing it for anyone’s benefit but her own. She uses me, just like she uses everyone else. A nation of monsters gives her protection and control, which are things I’m sure she’s only dreamed of having. Face it—when’s the last time you saw a purple-skinned Mire Elf in the city?”
“I can’t say I’ve been to a city much in the past fifty years.”
“Liar. You blend in fine.”
They bickered more until they noticed the scene below disperse. Eidi disappeared as Ethereal creatures sometimes did. Torah hiked off into the distance, seemingly headed for the antechamber to go down the cavern and out into the Wistwilds. But Talora and Lilu were more interested in Canis’s path inside the Convent.
“You follow him this time,” Talora said. “We’ll meet up soon.”
Lilu grunted in response, watching the nightwalker leave her alone out on the terrace. She stayed there for a moment, listening as a breeze rippled the curtains behind her, hoping for a stroke of inspiration to find her the way it did so many other kinds of beings.
But nothing came.
She would find Canis without a clever game, without an intriguing question, and without a harrowing predicament. No, there would be no creative ruse the way Talora approached it.
Instead, she would find Canis with a good old-fashioned altercation, for no reason at all. Her trademark.
9
The Middleman
Adeska didn’t move. Her skin was cold; her pulse was faint. Lazarus watched her, knowing that, without some kind of miracle, today would be her last day alive. He thought about the complicated life she would leave behind and couldn’t decide if he was relieved for her fate or not.
Then he scolded himself for the thought. There was nothing to be happy about. He was closer to her than to any of his other siblings. For so many years, they had struggled to keep the family safe, content, and successful, working together and taking on responsibilities they were in no way ready for. After a day of raising the others—of working till they bled, or cooking, or cleaning, or mending, or teaching, or any number of tasks—they had just enough time to fight and argue with one another before falling asleep. And then before the sun came up, they’d rise and do it all over again.
No one had ever had his back the way she had, and all he could do was stare down at her and watch her die. No medicines had improved her condition, and no Topaz Magic from the Hesperans had reached her either. They were all out of ideas.
The Maw snapped from inside his glove. There was one option left. With a deep breath, Lazarus left the infirmary and headed to the cells. It was early—no one had been down yet—so he lit the lantern with a petty magic flame, and Centa woke.
“Rori?”
“No.”
The man rubbed sleep out of his eyes and saw the eldest Hallenar on the other side of the bars. Immediately his anger sparked.
“Why are you here?” He rose to his feet. “There’s nothing else for you to stick your nose in, necromancer. Leave us alone.”
Lazarus glanced at Meeka in the next cell and saw her fast asleep. He felt fortunate that Centa didn’t know what had transpired in the interrogation room. It would make things easier, he thought.
“She’s not going to make it.” He kept his voice low. “Adeska’s dying.”
Centa swallowed hard. “I know.” Minutes ago, he had been dreaming of her. He did not want to have this conversation.
“When she does, you’re next. You know Allanis will have your head for killing her.”
“I know!” He grabbed the bars and gripped them white. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s nothing I can do about it! I’m stuck here in a gods damned cage; otherwise, I’d be doing everything I—”
“I can fix her.”
“You stay away from her! Keep your twisted magic away from her, you bastard.”
The Maw snapped again. “I’m not going to raise my sister’s corpse! You say what you want about the practice. I know it’s Forbidden, but I would never—”
“Then how?”
As the voices grew louder, Meeka stirred. When her eyes opened, and she saw Lazarus, a jolt of fear paralyzed her. Her heart was beating in her throat. Slowly, she reached for Golgotha with a sweaty hand.
Lazarus removed his glove to show Centa the Maw. “I can take life, and I can give life.”
“What the hell is that?”
“The Anzharian Maw. It’s how we reanimate the dead. I take a life, and I put it into a different vessel, and I think I can do that with Adeska. But she isn’t dead. I’ve never done it to something—someone—not dead yet, but maybe all she needs is more life so her body can keep healing.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Do you need my fucking permission?”
As soon as it happened, Centa knew he should have known what Lazarus meant to do. Meeka knew, but she didn’t have the courage to speak and draw attention to herself, able only to watch in horror. Lazarus reached through the bars with the Maw wide open and latched onto Centa’s face. The Maw connected with his mouth and pulled the searing hot energy out of him. The searing hot energy of anger and turmoil. It came with brutal memories.
Lazarus wasn’t sure how much he had taken when he finally released him. Centa fell back into the cell unmoving, and Meeka screamed.
“Come in here!” She pulled herself up with the bars. “Come in here, I dare you! I dare you, you fucking coward!”
Lazarus shuddered with the new life and stared her down. “Your fire is back. That’s good.”
He left, and she screamed more profanities at him and threw pebbles and debris from the ground through the bars.
Centa’s life swam through Lazarus’s veins, burning hot with rage and anguish and the dismal remains of hope. He saw Adeska on the battlefield of Burshen, covered in blood, holding her casting dagger in the air as she commanded the earth to shake with her magic.
He saw her covered in blood a second time, but there was no battlefield. The fight had been in her own home. Tears streamed down her face as she dropped a bloody knife on the ground, mouthing “I’m sorry,” over and over again.
There was more that he tried to block out. Painful history and moments he shouldn’t be privy to. The infirmary. He had to make it to the infirmary. But there was so much. It was nothing like Meeka’s mind. Centa’s energy was overwhelming, and it was more vicious with every passing second it was inside of him. He passed the library and leaned into the doorframe as pain crushed his very soul.
“Can I really give this to Adeska?”
“Lazarus?”
He looked over his shoulder. Allanis had found him. She did not look patient.
He clenched his teeth. “Leave me alone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Go!” He pushed himself off the doorframe and headed down the hall again.
“Don’t you tell me ‘go!’ What the hell has gotten into you?” Then she saw it. She saw the Maw dripping with fresh blood, and the red-slicked teeth surrounding a gaping pit of nothingness. The skin on Lazarus’s hand was raw as the hungry parasite flexed and snapped within. “That’s—no, that’s the thing she told me about. That mouth. Lazarus, what are you doing? Put that away before someone sees you!”
He could feel the skin on his knuckles splitting and tearing as he hit Phio, again and again, living Centa’s memory like it was happening right before his eyes. He’d never taken memories from someone that were so real.
“I have to do this,” he said. “Don’t get in the way, Alli!”
She realized
they were heading for Adeska and panicked. “You have to stop doing this! Lazarus, you have to stop whatever it is that you’re doing! You’re going to screw this up for all of us!”
He missed the islands so much. He missed his family. He had just left them there with that monster, but Phio was there. Phio told him it would be okay. It was dark, and he couldn’t remember what he’d done, but his friend’s face was swollen and bruised. But it was okay. Whatever had happened was okay. Phio said it was okay. He always did.
“Lazarus! Please! If they find out, if anyone finds out, they will not stop with just you! They will come for all of us! You’re risking all our lives. Please, stop!”
“No!” he roared. “I can do this! Stay back, Alli. I won’t let you get in the way.”
She’d given Golgotha to Meeka. Perhaps she should have kept it for herself. “What are you going to do to her?”
“Just trust me.”
She’d never trusted him less than in that very moment, but she let him go on, watching him stagger in pain with an infliction she didn’t understand. They came to the infirmary, and she readied the Royal Magic to stop him, the Akasha glowing blue from the bezel on her necklace. When she told herself she could stop him if she had to, doubt filled every word.
Lazarus came to Adeska’s bed, his steps uneven. Centa’s life was molten in his soul. It wanted out, but he was hesitant to give it to her. All he could find was pain. Even the memories that had once been happy—memories with Mariette—were now laced with sorrow.
He made his decision and reached for her with his other hand, placing his fingertips on the crown of her head. The energy that left him was red and flowed like fire, erupting without hesitation. It flurried and flourished over her, hunting for ways to enter her body. It jumped into her wounds, seeped into her fingertips, found old scars to part, and ceased only when there wasn’t a trace of it left for Lazarus to give. The knot in his chest finally eased away.
Allanis stood beside him, shaking, when the energy subsided. “What did you do?”
Adeska didn’t wake, but her complexion was flush with color for the first time since she’d been hurt, and her chest rose and fell with deep breaths.
“She was going to die. I had to, Alli.”
“What did you do?”
“I took some of Centa’s life and gave it to her. She’s got a better chance now. She’ll be okay.”
“What about Meeka?”
He looked down at her and let out a deep breath. She scowled.
“Did you have to do that too?”
“Yes. And no. It was going to happen to someone.” He felt sick with himself. “It was unfortunate but advantageous that it was her.”
“Advantageous?”
“Do you think anyone else could have gotten that information by just talking to her?” he snapped. “Grow up! You can’t solve every problem by talking and being nice to people! The information we got was worth it!”
“You listen to me.” She pointed up at him until her finger was under his chin. “I respect your concerns, but I am the queen, and when I build something, I expect you not to come tearing it down when my back is turned. The next time it happens, I am sending you back to the Fallarian Isle. And whether it solves the problem or not, I’m sending you back without a left arm.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“Good.”
“But Meeka’s information. Tizzy’s the Protégé she was talking about. Isn’t she?”
The question must have been on his mind since the Council had gone over the results of the interrogation. She ran her tongue over her teeth.
“She is. And remember the night she woke up from her Rite of Crossing? The night you and Adeska found her? She turned Aleth. That’s how they’re both what they are. Amazing what things you can find out by just being nice to people, isn’t it?”
She turned on her heel and left. Lazarus knew that saving Adeska was the only reason Allanis hadn’t exiled him then and there.
It was hours before Centa was conscious again. When he finally came to, Phio waited outside his cell. It was quiet and dark, the smell of salty broth in the air.
“What happened?” Centa asked. His voice was hoarse and his throat raw.
Phio didn’t say anything as he pushed a mug through the bars. Centa took a drink, and the broth stung the puncture wounds around his mouth he hadn’t realized were there.
“What happened?” he asked again. “I know it was bad, but I can’t even remember. Is Adeska alright? Did she wake up?”
“She’s still out cold,” Phio said. “How do you feel—”
“The necromancer took your life!”
Centa jumped at Meeka’s voice. He was sure she’d been asleep. But then the thought of Lazarus was fire in his veins, and he remembered everything.
“He told me he could fix her.”
Phio shrugged, but his shoulders were heavy. “Maybe he did. Allanis thinks so. But what about you? According to Meeka, he sucked the life out of you.”
“That’s what he did to me during the interrogation!” she said. “He did that same fucking thing! I could feel him in my head, in my blood, everywhere! When I woke up, I could feel a part of me missing.”
Centa had already felt a piece of himself missing, even before the Maw came. But the rest of her account was accurate.
He shook his head. “Piece of shit.”
“You look sick,” Phio said. “Try to drink something. Get better. I’ll need you better.”
Centa sipped again, watching the distraction in his friend’s eyes. “You have to get us out of here, Phio.”
“No!” He held up a shaking finger. “If I get you out of here, the first thing you’re going to do is go after Lazarus! And you know what you’ll do second? If you survive the first? You’ll go after Cato!”
“Phio—”
“Don’t you even start with that! I know exactly how you are! Don’t waste your breath arguing otherwise.” He stopped himself, took a few steps down the corridor, then came back.
“What is it, Phio?”
He held up a fist and then dropped it. “It’s everything! All of this is your fault! I miss my horse!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have found a better way—”
“Forget it!” He sat back down with them. “I know what I have to do. I’m going to try talking to Allanis again—”
“Phio, when I said you had to get us out of here, that wasn’t what I meant. There’s no way you’re going to be able to convince her to let us go.”
“I know it’s not what you meant! Just let me see what I can do, okay? Be patient. Lazarus shouldn’t be coming down here anymore. Allanis is pissed at him. So at least on that front, you two should be safe.”
Meeka crawled as close to them as her bars would allow. “Wait, you keep saying ‘us.’ You’re taking me with you? Did I hear that right?”
Centa remained silent to her question, too fixed on his friend. Phio was bubbling over with anxiety, hanging his head between his knees.
“If we do this Centa, we can’t come back.” His breath shook. “I don’t just mean Suradia, either. I mean all of it. Everyone we know. We’re going to have to leave this whole life behind. Can you do that again?”
“I can. You know I can.”
“But Mari!” Phio could feel a tightness in his throat as he thought about leaving her. She was like a daughter to him too.
“I know! I’m not saying I want to! But if I have to, I can. And we have to.”
“Centa, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Please.” Meeka gripped the bars till her knuckles were white. “You have to. You have to get me out of here. Please.”
Phio tried to picture it in his mind. How would it go if he could get them out? Would Allanis chase after them? How far would she go to bring them to justice? Part of him doubted she would pursue them at all. He knew she didn’t want to make the decisions looming in the distance, and their escape would be the perfect excuse not
to.
“Alright,” he said. “Give me some time. I’ll come up with something. We’ll go. All three of us. Don’t expect closure this time, Centa.”
Centa watched him leave again and felt just as hollow as he had the last time.
“What did he mean by that?” Meeka asked.
He stared into the cup of broth. “I’ve left people behind before, but I was fortunate enough to get the chance to say goodbye.” His sister had died in his arms. “But this time, I’ve probably already seen Adeska for the last time. When I slipped the knife into her. I have to live with that.”
Lilu’s fingers, warm and slick with blood, gripped tight onto a chunk of raw flesh. The Nuntius wrapped its little black tentacles around it, wrestling itself up so that it could take the morsel into the mouth on its belly. Lilu watched its leathery wings beat in frustration before it finally found the leverage to eat it from her hand.
Talora sat at one of the Convent library’s tables and peered at the creature from over a black-bound book.
“Where did you say that thing came from again?” she asked.
Lilu sucked the blood off her fingers, then let the small daemon crawl up her arm. It made itself comfortable perching on her shoulder.
“The Nuntius? It was the messenger daemon the other lilitu sent their letter on. Louvita found it waiting for me when I was busy bringing Tizzy and Aleth back with you. You remember.”
Talora let out a weary sigh and flipped a page. “Ah, yes. From when they had been kidnapped by the Hunters. What an awful day.” She rubbed her eyes, recalling how scared she’d been when she’d stumbled upon Lilu in the woods surrounded by the two unconscious nightwalkers and a handful of dead Hunters. “Interesting choice of courier for the lilitu.”
“Nuntii don’t usually survive after the delivery.” Lilu wasn’t sure how she felt as she said the words. She had imagined saying them differently, had imagined feeling elite and powerful to declare that the creature’s limits were so far below her own. But the words had come out rather flat.
She pondered her loss of conviction as she rubbed a patch of fur on the Nuntius’s body. Talora stared at her.