Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  "Roane," the white-haired subjugator stated with a tone of annoyance. The rabid woman turned immediately at the sound of her mistress’ voice, backing away from the corpse but still crouching. Her dark leather clothes were in tatters about her. Not that it mattered; her skin was covered entirely in glossy black chitin. Roane's hair was filthy, encrusted with the Great Mother only knew what. Most unsettling though were her blood-covered, sharp yellow teeth, too numerous for a human jaw. They resembled a shark's mouth, multiple rows of tiny razors. It was curious to the sorceress, having observed Roane eat several times now, how the she-monster could consume so much meat and her belly not bulge. She wondered where she put it all. Salamasca found some comfort in the solid black eyes now anxiously regarding her; after all, their color matched her own.

  "I told you to kill the Tepey, not eat him," the sorceress sighed, realizing that in the future she would have to be more specific in her instructions and irritated with her minion’s errant behavior.

  Roane's entire manner shifted. Her back straightened, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a negligible attempt to make herself presentable.

  "Apologies, my Queen," she said, her voice muted as if speaking was difficult. "I couldn't help myself. I... I hunger..." The creature's shoulders hunched again slightly, taking on some of their former predatory nature.

  "Fine," Salamasca replied tartly, "finish your meal." Roane grinned, fully displaying her unsettling teeth. Before she turned to obey her mistress, the sorceress added, "Try and keep it down though, will you?" Again Roane flashed the nightmarish smile and then she crouched back down to finish her feasting.

  Returning her gaze to the chief's family, Salamasca crossed the tent to where they were huddled together. The young man tensed when she crouched down to address the little girl but did not stop the sorceress, as she laid down her staff and took hold of the girl's tiny shoulders, prying her away from her older brother. The child's face was stained with her father's blood, although her tears streaked clean lines down her cheeks. Under the filth, she was a pretty girl with beautiful two-toned eyes, the center of the iris a rich brown with a gray outer edge.

  "What is your name, little one?" Salamasca asked.

  The girl looked to the young man questioningly.

  "She doesn't speak the western tongue," he said, his voice nervous. "Her name is Amunet."

  "And yours?" Salamasca inquired, without glancing up at him.

  "I am called Bes," he replied.

  "Bes, tell Amunet that she is mine now," Salamasca said, keeping the girl's frightened eyes locked with hers. The mother, apparently understanding the sorceress' words raised her eyes, fright clear on her face. Salamasca continued, "As long as she serves me, she will be kept safe."

  "NO," the mother screamed, drawing a dagger hidden in the folds of the baby’s blanket and lunging at the sorceress. Instinctively, Salamasca let go of her hold on the girl and brought up her staff. She batted the weapon out of the woman's hand, but because she still crouched in front of the little girl the motion was imperfect. The weapon was gone, but the sorceress stood now with her hand pressed to her shoulder. Bright crimson blood dribbled down through her fingers. She stared in disbelief at the wound. Like an agitated snake, Salamasca's head rounded on the woman, rage in her eyes.

  "Filthy whore!" the sorceress screamed. Letting go of the shallow cut and tightening her grip on her staff, she thrust a sharpened end through the woman's left eye. She hung limply for a moment, her babe slipping from her grip, before Salamasca yanked her staff back. The woman and baby slumped to the rugs below. The infant began to wail.

  It was the boy's turn to lash out; he launched himself at Salamasca, fists swinging. He didn't make it far though, as a Shadow Walker stabbed either side of his mid-section from behind, pinning him in place. He shrieked in pain, as the second Shadow Walker slit his throat, cutting the wail short. Crimson poured down his torso, bathing the baby below in hot blood. Roane turned, allured by the fresh kill. She sniffed the air for a moment but then turned back to her work on the Tepey.

  The girl-child just stood like a statue and stared at the horrific sight, as if something inside her had broken.

  "About time you imbeciles decided to join in," the sorceress said to her undead minions, as she wiped the blood off her staff on the woman's dress. "Roane, you are worthless. All you are good for is disposing of corpses," she spat at her creature.

  "Apologies, my Queen," Roane said, as she crossed the room to help Salamasca, retrieving bandages from Walron’s saddlebags by the entrance to the tent.

  "Worthless," Salamasca grumbled, as Roane returned to her side and began binding her wound.

  "Now, now, you just don't know how to use her properly," an aged voice said from the back of the tent. Salamasca spun around, her staff leveled at the newcomer, but she instantly relaxed, a clicking sound giving away his identity.

  "Luzige," she breathed, as the man stepped into the lamplight and pulled back the cowl of his hooded robe. His eyes were missing, just empty sockets framed in a chitin-covered face. Antennae twitched on his plated bare head, their motion indicating olfaction. A knife hung at his belt, the only weapon he appeared to possess.

  Salamasca spared him the briefest of glances before kneeling and picking up the still crying baby. The sorceress wrapped the soiled linens tightly around the infant and cradled her in the crook of her arm. The babe stopped crying. "There is no one capable left to care for you, little one," she whispered, pulling a tiny dagger from her belt and placing it at the infant's throat. The baby, who was maybe four months old, wrapped her chubby fingers around Salamasca's thumb and cooed at her. Something inside the sorceress warmed. She was stunned. Is it possible that I have even a shred of maternal instinct? she thought.

  "She likes you," Luzige chuckled, moving casually to Salamasca's side and tickling the baby's chin with a claw-like appendage. The little one giggled, a giant grin forming on her toothless mouth.

  "Sekhet," said a small voice. Salamasca looked down at the little girl who had spoken. "Name... Sekhet," she finished. The sorceress put away her dagger.

  "Sekhet," Salamasca repeated, holding the baby's hand. The warmth grew inside her. Suddenly very much aware of the effect the child was having on her, she quickly handed the baby to her older sister like it was a dangerous animal. "Go. Find someone in your tribe to care for you both," the sorceress said. The little girl looked at her quizzically. She did not understand. Salamasca pointed to the tent flap, "Go," she repeated. The child still hesitated, not quite understanding. "Go before I change my mind!" The severity in the sorceress' last statement sent the girl scurrying out of the tent as fast as she could manage, while struggling to keep hold of the bundled baby that was almost as big as she.

  "A weakness," Luzige mused, a grin on his segmented lips.

  "Despite the centuries that have passed, I am female," Salamasca shrugged, watching the tent flap as it came to rest again. "A woman's nature cannot fully be denied...," she paused, turning to face the old man with her mouth curving into an alluring smile, "something my former general, Ra'thet, knew well."

  "I can relate to that. I still have... desires," Luzige said, his visage turned downwards as if his sightless eyes were lingering on the sorceress' well-displayed cleavage in her tight corset.

  "And here I thought you were blind," she mused, crossing her arms under her bosom.

  "Oh, I am, but I have other sensory organs," he grinned wickedly.

  "Oh?" Salamasca laughed heartily, truly enjoying the repartee.

  "I meant my antennae of course," he said bemusedly, raising his thins claws in a yielding gesture. "The more heat that escapes your body the more... undressed it is."

  Salamasca chuckled in response and said, "Well, it is hot in the Eastern Kingdom. A certain amount of clothing must be shed to ensure comfort."

  Neither had anything else to add and became uneasily quiet. Their smiles faded. Luzige's face sobered after a few moments of silence,
as they both returned their attention to the matters at hand. "As much as I have enjoyed this bit of discourse, it is not the intent of my visit."

  "Very well," Salamasca said, stepping over the dead bodies of the boy and his mother and moving to a part of the tent bereft of copious amounts of blood. "Come, sit," she added, waving her hand for Luzige to follow. "I'll have some spiced tea brought to us if you would like? It is quite strong in these parts but also very good."

  "That sounds delectable," the elder sorcerer answered, following her to a cluster of unsoiled red and purple velvet pillows and sinking into them. Once they were both reclined comfortably, Salamasca waved over Roane. The former regent fell easily back into her old role, despite her monstrous appearance and came to her mistress’ side.

  "Fetch us some tea, on a tray with a teapot and cups. Set it up properly this time," the sorceress commanded, pinning Roane with a frustrated look and as an afterthought added, "But first, drag those bodies and the ruined furnishings out. I find it hard to enjoy my tea while surrounded by filth."

  "Yes, my Queen. It will be done as you wish," Roane whispered, bowed and left the tent, dragging the mangled body of the Tepey with her by his chewed-to-the-bone ankle. Salamasca raised an eyebrow at how easily Roane dragged the body out, her stride not even labored by the man's weight. The creature was gaining an unnatural strength the more she fed. Luzige remained quiet during the exchange, simply watching with his haunting eyeless sockets.

  "Again, child, you are not putting the minion I made you to proper use. Fetching tea seems a mockery of her... talents," the elder sorcerer remarked.

  "Do not worry yourself overmuch about Roane," Salamasca replied casually, while absently running her fingers along the beaded trim of the pillow. "I give her plenty of exercise when we attack a new area. Tomorrow, we'll recruit another village, and then the next day as well, until there are no more left unclaimed on this pitiful continent." Closing her eyes momentarily, the sorceress ran her fingers through her long white tresses, stroking smooth any stray hairs. Luzige watched, the simple task soothing. Satisfied, Salamasca opened her lids again, adding, "Fear not. There is plenty of meat to keep her belly full."

  "Very well," the old man waved his hand dismissively, wanting to change the topic anyway. "On to my foremost reason for coming to you," Luzige said. "Your growing domination over the Aishe Desert is attracting a great deal of attention. I am sure your lifeprice debt is astronomical by now. The people here have known this tradition for so long, the mere notion of a lifeprice not being paid is unheard of."

  Salamasca simply smiled prettily as she unworriedly replied, "Like I really care about this lands' need to rationalize murder. Granted it is preferable to the justice of the Illyander Kingdom, but in truth I do not care. You know me, Luzige. You were my teacher for many years. Why pay a price, when you can take what you want by sheer force?"

  Luzige slowly shook his chitinous head in disapproval, closing his segmented eye lids. "Child, everything has a price. There has been and always will be balance in this world. When you make waves from the shore of a pond, the ripples are noticeable even from the other side." When Salamasca shook her head in denial, Luzige added, "You listened to me once. I penetrated that spoiled brat persona you came to me with after Tomas tossed you out. I do know you." The sorceress starred daggers at her former mentor, but he continued unaffected. "You murdered your own parents, because, even though they gave you everything your heart desired, it was still not enough. Nothing you do has ever truly satisfied you. Think about it, child."

  "Stop calling me child!" Salamasca said, her controlled facade crumbling. Her hands moved unconsciously to her staff, tightening her fingers around its shaft. "I am centuries old!"

  "Centuries... how cute," Luzige mocked. "I am six thousand and two years old." Salamasca's eyes widened, loosening her grip on her weapon. She had known he was very old, but she had never known his exact age. The ancient man nodded, seeing his statement affected her the way he intended; he wanted to shock her into realizing her current pursuits were child's play, insignificant to the ages. He shrugged, adding, "When you live as long as I do, everyone is a child. Even your Tomas is no more than a boy. He is young for his kind. Young and brash," Luzige said, his empty sockets pinned directly on her, "just like you."

  Salamasca scowled at Luzige but knew better than to threaten him; his full power she suspected could destroy their world if he willed it. She imagined him consuming the life from its core like a predator sucking marrow from the bones of its victim. She had no choice but to listen to his lecturing. The room fell silent, the quiet only disturbed by Roane returning for the remaining corpses. She rolled them up in the soiled rugs and dragged the large bundles out into the night. Unexpectedly, the sound of a loud unearthly roar outside the tent sent a chill down Luzige's spine. He sat up straight, hands clenching the curved, ornamental dagger at his belt.

  "What was that?" the old man asked, his head turned in the direction of the noise.

  "That is one of my newest toys being trained by Walron," Salamasca smiled, seeing she had created something unknown to her former teacher and as a result had scored a point over him so to speak. Her previous unrest was forgotten as pride straightened her posture. "I call them Death Drakes, raised from dead dragons."

  "You found more dragons?" he asked, true fear in his voice. "You tinker with powers far greater than you could ever know." Luzige's demeanor turned inward, his gaze lowered to his lap, and his next words meant for only himself. "Undoubtedly, they are drakelings... never be able to kill an adult dragon," he murmured.

  "They are mine," she said possessively, her body rigid with anger. Luzige's head snapped back up, fixing Salamasca with his unsettling eyeless stare once more.

  "Those dragons you killed are babes," he spat. “Their parents will not be pleased." The sorcerer’s face was heated, its redness visible even through his shell-like skin.

  Salamasca cocked her head at her former teacher, perplexed. Her mind raced, and her heart pounded at the implied peril.

  “What do you know about the dragons’ parents, Luzige? If you have information, tell me,” the sorceress demanded rudely.

  “No,” he replied simply, still meeting her gaze evenly. “What will it take to finally satisfy you? Will conquering this world truly sate your desires in the end?" He asked heatedly, studying her.

  “I do what pleases me, Teacher,” she snapped. “For now, subjugating the Eastern Kingdom will do that," she responded, barely managing to compose herself. She forced herself to calm down, slowing her anxious heart. Luzige shook his head and sighed, knowing his words had fallen on insensible ears. After a few moments of silence, Salamasca tried to shift the conversation's focus by saying, "I have never understood why you do not just take what you want; you have the power to do so."

  "A beetle traveling deep enough beneath the sand goes unnoticed. It is when he travels close to the surface that his passage is marked by predators," Luzige stated wisely, settling back into his pillows as he regained his composure. "There are beings equal to or greater than me. The Great Mother for instance. She lacks form, but her vast authority is real." Luzige wasn't about to let his former student turn the discussion back on him and stated, "She has created another Avatar in response to your actions; you tilted the balance and attracted her notice. I felt her power stir...," the old sorcerer alleged, putting a clawed hand to his midsection in a loose fist and then releasing it, "awakening like a mother bear from hibernation at the incessant nursing of her young, feeding from her even as she slumbered." Luzige fell silent, observing his former student's reaction to his revelations. She was not surprised he noted.

  When he said nothing more, Salamasca spoke up, her eyes low and lids hooded, "Yes, I know of the Avatar. Her name is Akor'shi-kai, formed by the joining of twin sisters. They are the reason I was forced to retreat across the Sea of Twylight."

  Roane entered with a wooden tray, holding a crude teapot and cups. Despite the poor quality of th
e tea service, the insectoid minion poured the tea daintily and with relaxed precision. Still, Salamasca observed her with a disapproving frown. Only when the tea was served and Roane dismissed did Luzige respond to the sorceress' earlier comment.

  "Good, you know what hunts you then," he stated. "You may not be aware though that the Avatar, Akor'shi-kai as you call her, is here in the Eastern Kingdom." Salamasca sputtered the sip she just took from her cup, tea trickling from the corner of her pink lips. Luzige continued, ignoring her mishap. "I sense her." His face relaxed, his expression unfocused. His mind appeared to be far away. "She is near." His attention returned and he faced Salamasca again. "I came to talk to you, yes, but mainly to warn you. Come with me; hide in my cave tucked away from the world. It may be your only chance of survival."

  Salamasca scoffed at the notion, exhaling deeply and setting down her cup. "I will not hide." She looked directly at Luzige. "You knew that though."

  "Yes," he sighed. "I knew you would not agree to hide, although I had hoped... for your sake... and for mine." Salamasca tilted her head questioningly, as he continued, "Your visit weeks ago was... pleasing. I am... lonely," he said hesitantly. The sorceress looked upon him briefly with pity, but the sentiment faded as fast as it had manifested. She laughed at him. He glared at her, ill intent in his countenance, his elongated spindle-like fingers clicking angrily as he fidgeted. The sorceress raised her hands in acquiescence.