The looks of terror on the faces of Rogin's men fed her hunger, her desire for vengeance even more. They began to backpedal, and three of them even turned to run away. They had only taken a few steps before blue threads lanced out from Elzaria's hands, striking each man in turn. Their faces twisted in pain, their eyes rolled back into their heads, and they fell to the ground, dead.
Elzaria, consumed by the raw power that coursed through her, continued to emit the deadly energy. It was liberating. So much power to be controlled at her whim.
She turned left and then right, her dark eyes falling upon the buildings that made up the Mogran mining camp, the hellhole that had been their prison for two years. She hated every inch of it. It was a place of sorrow and despair; of torture, rape, and death. It was a blight upon the world, a scourge that had to be destroyed.
Yes, she remembered thinking. I will destroy it. I will burn it to the ground. The smell of death will be so potent, all of Barju will retch. The scent of its very existence will mar the land for years to come.
There were times when Elzaria regretted killing all of the workers that had slaved away in the Mogran mine, but she always dismissed these rueful thoughts. Those people, those pathetic people, were dead the moment they set foot in that place. They were lifeless souls, accepting their fate and doing nothing to change it. She did them all a favor by putting them out of their misery.
Only she and Elzor, along with one merych they used to escape, had survived Mogran. And now, nearly twenty years later, they were on the brink of omnipotence. Not once had she questioned his judgment in that time. He was the only one on Elystra who loved her. He protected her, cared for her, and kept her alive when she was inches from death.
Elzaria never had a problem deferring to her brother. He was cunning, charismatic, and ruthlessly intelligent. While she mastered her ability in secret, he joined the Barjan militia, covertly recruiting soldiers who would follow him. He raised an army that, with her help, would soon become the most feared army in Elystran history. And thus the Elzorath were conceived.
A loud knock on the door brought her back to the present. Only one person besides the servants dared disturb her while she was in this room, and the forcefulness of the knock dismissed any notion that it could be one of those mewling toadies. “Enter, my liege.”
Elzaria heard the knob twist, and the door opened to reveal her brother, standing on the threshold. His face, usually so impassive, curled into a slight smile. “Sister, I've told you before, you need not refer to me by my title when it's only the two of us.”
She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed, letting her feet slide into a pair of slippers. She stretched her back muscles as she stood. While she was doing this, Elzor crossed the room, grabbed a silken robe off of the former queen's massive clothes-chest, and moved to stand behind her.
“Thank you, brother,” she said, slipping her arms into the robe and pulling it over the nightgown she looted from Turalda's closet. It felt good, wearing luxurious clothes, growing up wearing nothing but rags.
“Are you well rested?” Elzor asked.
“I am indeed. I do believe I'm strong enough to join you for supper, though with your permission, I would lay my hands upon the Stone one more time first.”
With a quick glance at the metal box, about eighteen inches in length, that sat on Elzaria's night table, Elzor reached into a small pouch that hung from his belt and brought forth a key. He handed it to her with an exaggerated bow. “But of course.”
She took the key with a bemused smile. “Any progress with the door?”
He sighed. “When we began our labors, progress was painfully slow. The rock is dense, and the door is nigh impregnable. Solid machinite.” He gave a wry chuckle. “There are no machinite mines in Agrus. This must have come from Barju.”
“How ironic that the metal from that door might have come from the same mine we toiled in as children, and now it blocks us from completing the next stage of our quest.”
“At this rate, it will likely take us months to break through it. But I have found a way to speed things along.”
“Oh?” She looked expectantly at him.
“Yesterday, I spent several hours in the royal apothecary's workshop, and I made a fortuitous discovery: it would seem that a combination of several ingredients can produce a substance known as sargonic acid. When applied correctly, it can eat away stone and corrode metal, even one as durable as machinite.”
“That is indeed fortuitous.”
He nodded. “Needless to say, I set the royal chemist to creating as much as he could straight away.”
“He didn't object?”
“Not after I cut off two of his fingers,” he said, smirking.
Something that had been bothering Elzaria occurred to her. “Elzor … what will we do if the Agrusian Stone is not behind that door?”
“I do not know,” he said. “Many believe the Agrusian stone to be an unsubstantiated myth, a fiction created and upheld for centuries by the aristocracy. But I believe it exists. If it is not within the bowels of this castle, it is somewhere else. Someone must know of its location, and if I have to tear this world apart to find it, I will.”
She put a hand on his arm. “What makes you so certain?”
“Just an instinct, dear sister. When we were slaves, I wanted nothing more than to destroy those who wield power they neither earned nor deserve, those who grow fat on the labors of others. Finding the Stone was an unexpected happenstance; it gave me an innate sense of purpose, a path to follow that I was previously unaware of.” He met her gaze. “And it gave you the power to eliminate all who stand in our way.”
“I hope it's enough,” she said, almost to herself.
He gave her a withering look. “What does that mean?”
She bowed her head. “Forgive me, brother, but … if I may speak plainly?”
He nodded.
“I have trusted your instincts my entire life,” she said. “But by this time, word of our conquest will have spread to Imar and Darad. They will likely ally themselves with the Viceroy's forces and come looking for us. Their combined might would be formidable, brother, and I'm not sure I'm capable of defeating them on my own.”
“Which is why it's imperative we locate the Agrusian stone with all due haste.”
“Agreed, but I repeat: what if it's not here? Do we have the time and the resources to scour the length and breadth of Elystra before our enemies bring the battle to us?”
“Our path will take us where the fates lead us.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I didn't think you believed in such things.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Don't mistake my fervor for belief. Arantha may be a false deity, but that doesn't mean there aren't forces greater than ourselves influencing us. The fact that I'm standing in a room with the first female Wielder in Elystran history is proof enough of that.”
“In that case, I hope those forces remain on our side. If the Prophecy is true, then we still have a long way to go before our quest is complete.”
He closed his eyes briefly and smiled. “One thing at a time, sister.” He turned with a whoosh of his cloak and headed for the door. “The servants have prepared a fine repast for our evening meal. You will join me once you are suitably refreshed and attired?”
“Of course.”
“Then I will expect you shortly.” Without looking back, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.
After Elzor's footsteps faded into nothingness, she stared down at the key in her hand. Moving over to her night table, she slid it into the keyhole of the ornate box that sat upon it. With a click of the tumbler, the lid popped open. There, on a bed of crushed velvet, was the Stone. Exposed to the light as well as her proximity, a blue glow began to emanate from within its depths, as if anticipating its imminent union with her.
She sat on the bed and reached for it. As she scooped it up with both hands, the soft glow increased to a blinding intensity. Energy mo
re potent than she was prepared for poured into her, and her sight faded out as she retreated into her own mind.
All was dark. She wondered if she'd gone blind. Or mad. Or perhaps she had overestimated her strength, and the surge of power had killed her outright.
Then an image flashed through her mind. She saw Elystra from a great distance, as if she were floating high above the surface. She wasn't sure how she knew it was Elystra she was looking at; she just knew.
What's happening to me? Am I having a vision?
It was common knowledge that the High Mage of Darad, Mizar, was the only living Elystran to possess this ability. It had never happened to her. Until now.
Something sped by her, a fiery object streaking toward the surface, leaving an incandescent trail in its wake. And then another, and another, and another. She watched as they struck solid ground, hitting three different parts of the continent.
Before she could contemplate the meaning of what she just saw, her aspect changed. She was no longer looking at Elystra from high above, but from much closer to the ground. She skimmed the surface of the land, gliding across it like a low-flying bird. Miles of desert terrain flew by in a matter of seconds, and she beheld a vast mountain range looming in front of her.
Straight through the mountains she flew, her velocity not ebbing until she burst through the wall of a high rock-face. Below her was a serene mountain lake, surrounded on three sides by vertical cliffs. But her journey wasn't over yet. On the far side of the lake was –
Had she control over her body, she would have gasped in astonishment.
What … is … that?
* * *
An hour later, clad in her favorite emerald-green outfit, she made her way toward Castle Tynal's dining hall. She entered the large room to find Elzor, General Langon and several other high-ranking Elzorath finishing up their meal. Most of them were leaning back in their chairs, with one hand grasping a flagon of honey mead and the other on their full bellies.
As she approached her brother, she saw out of her peripheral vision several of his men ogling her. There was a time when such leers made her uncomfortable, but not anymore. These men knew that the penalty for crossing the line of “look but don't touch” was less than desirable.
Elzor glanced up as she approached. “Ah, so good of you to finally join us, Elzaria,” he said with a sneer. “I expected you quite some time ago. It is fortunate that you arrived before I was forced to come get you.”
She bowed her head as she absorbed his reproach, which she knew he only made in order to look authoritative in front of his men. “Forgive my tardiness, my liege, but … something has happened.”
He tore the last bite of meat off the havsu leg he was gnawing on, swallowed, and wiped his face with a cloth. “Well?”
She cast a surreptitious glance to her left and then to her right. Upon closer inspection, several of Elzor's men appeared to be dozing. Langon was still concentrating on his meal. The man could put away food like a ravenous chava.
Leaning in close to Elzor, she whispered, “I had a vision.”
His eyes widened, and for a moment he looked at her like she was insane. “If this is some puerile jest, Elzaria, I'm not laughing.”
“It's no jest, my liege. The Stone showed me something. I scarcely have the words to describe it.”
He put down his napkin and leaned closer to her, lowering his own voice to a whisper. “Try.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
T he Councilors' faces went slack as Kelia related every detail she could remember from the vision she experienced the night before. When she told them about the alien woman with the strange designs on her skin, as well as the mysterious mental bond Kelia shared with her, the Council members were aghast.
“Great Arantha,” Eloni finally said. “I always suspected we were not alone in the Creation, but to actually have proof of it …”
“Agreed,” Katura said. “Arantha created all things. These beings may be her emissaries.”
“What if they're not?” Susarra asked in a coarse voice. “You maintain that their appearance, their presence is the will of Arantha. Have you considered the possibility that it may be a warning?”
Kelia frowned. “A warning?”
“Yes. We know nothing of these beings. Maybe they are the first of many, sent to destroy our world. Maybe Arantha alerted you to their presence so that we may prepare for battle.”
“I concur with Susarra,” said Eloni. “We cannot know these beings' true motives. Until we do, we must exercise extreme caution.”
“What is your plan, Protectress?” asked Katura.
“I will make the journey to the Kaberian Mountains to make contact with these beings. Alone.”
Katura gasped. “Alone? Protectress, but is that wise?”
“Katura's right. It could be dangerous,” Eloni added.
“I realize that,” Kelia said, her voice bearing a confidence far greater than she actually felt. “But I am the most powerful Wielder in the Ixtrayu. I can take care of myself, as I'm sure you would all agree. I am also Protectress. If these beings are indeed hostile, I would not have anyone else imperil themselves.”
“How will you travel?” Eloni asked.
“I will travel on Fex. She is the swiftest chava on Elystra.” Kelia cast a glance out the large window, where the sun was beginning its ascent. “On her back, I should be able to reach the mountains by sunset. I shall leave within the hour. Liana is already busy packing me some provisions.”
“Forgive me, Protectress,” Susarra chimed in. “But I've heard those mountains are home to many dangers. Should something happen to you, what would you have us do?”
Kelia looked at Susarra, whose face remained blank. This was her first conversation with the Councilor since their argument on the archery range. She hadn't had the chance to tell Vaxi about her decision to liberate the young huntress from her grandmother, and now that conversation would have to wait.
“I will leave the fate of the Ixtrayu in your capable hands, Councilors,” Kelia said. “Our people look to you for guidance, and so it will be up to the three of you to provide one united voice until such time as you deem Nyla worthy to succeed me.” Again she looked at Susarra, convinced her pronouncement would be met with disdain or, at the very least, resistance, but Susarra did not object.
Kelia suddenly found herself becoming suspicious. What is Susarra up to? She's never this cooperative!
Katura rose to her feet, and the other Councilors followed suit. “We will do as you command, Protectress,” she said, bowing her head. “May Arantha speed you on your journey, watch over you and keep you safe from harm.”
Kelia also stood. “I will endeavor to return as quickly as possible. Let us pray that we will all be more enlightened when I do.”
She strode forward, looking each of the three women in the eyes, one at a time. In Katura's and Eloni's eyes she saw both concern and confidence; confidence in her, and Kelia drew strength from them. Susarra's face, however, might as well have been carved in stone for all it revealed.
As one, the Councilors bowed their heads, and Kelia walked out of the Council Chamber.
* * *
“You're leaving again?” Nyla asked, biting her bottom lip.
Kelia fastened a belt around her tunic and met her daughter's gaze. “I'm afraid so.”
“Why do you have to go this time?”
Though Kelia had explained her previous day's vision to Liana as best she could, they had both thought it best that Nyla not be told. If she knew her mother was heading for a dangerous mountain range to converse with aliens, there was no telling how she might react. She pulled Nyla into a warm hug, feeling her daughter's arms encircle her waist. “Because Arantha wills it,” she said.
Nyla tightened her grip on Kelia. “How can you be so sure this is what she wants?”
“Hey,” Kelia said, facing Nyla again and placing a hand on her cheek. “One day, you will understand what it means to be Protect
ress. Having Arantha speak to you is the highest honor one can have. I will admit there have been many instances that her wishes have been difficult to discern.” She cast a quick glance at Liana standing right behind Nyla. “But this is not one of those occasions. More than any time in my entire life, I am certain this is what I must do.”
Nyla's cherubic face scrunched up. “When will you be back?”
“I don't know, duma. Two days, maybe three.”
Liana held out a thick, reddish-brown robe to Kelia, who slipped her arms into it. She shrugged the garment over her tunic and pulled up the cowl until it covered her hair, which Liana helped her do up in a simple braid. Kelia grabbed her satchel from where it sat on the chair next to the fire-pit. Testing its weight, she slung it over her shoulder.
“I need you to do something for me, Nyla,” Kelia said. “I need you to keep an eye on Vaxi for me.”
“Why?”
“Susarra's up to something. I can feel it. And I'm willing to bet it involves Vaxi.”
“I'll watch her, mama. You be careful.”
“I will, I promise,” Kelia said.
She gave her aunt and daughter one more embrace, and then exited, heading for the chava stables.
* * *
Fex's hooves pounded the sand as Kelia sped across the desert.
Kelia kept her eyes focused straight ahead, trying to ignore the heat from the sun. Today was the hottest day she could remember, and she knew the fact that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky or a breath of wind would make her journey that much more arduous. She'd already perspired through her tunic.
She absently reached down and patted Fex's neck, and she chuffed and snorted in response. Gray in color and with two short horns protruding from her snout, Fex had always been Kelia's favorite mount on the rare occasions she had to travel away from the village. Though her Wielding abilities didn't include being able to communicate with animals, the two shared a good rapport.
Most of the kingdoms of Elystra preferred to travel by merych. While those creatures were indeed majestic and durable, no animal could match the speed and stamina of a chava. Whereas most merychs were unable to run much more than a hundred miles in a day, a well-rested, healthy chava could far surpass that number. They could cover the three-hundred-mile distance in six hours, meaning Kelia would reach the base of the range well before sunset. Finding a traversable route through the mountains, however, would take some additional time.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 16