The Jewel of Kamara (The Delthenon Chronicles)

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The Jewel of Kamara (The Delthenon Chronicles) Page 13

by Bridie Blake


  Wimarc watched his son and shook his head in dismay. He had allowed Tempani’s views to encroach on his. First, he had demanded a trial for those rioters and now this. Soon he’ll start talking of peace with the Kalaowins.

  “And then watch as they turn those ‘gifts” on the very people who provide for them?” Lord Ricton scoffed. “Using magic is a privilege that very few of us have earned. We must control that. We wouldn’t want people getting hurt in their quest for power, would we?” His eyes met Darby’s again.

  Otto used all the self-restraint he had to not leap over the table and cut Lord Ricton down.

  —

  The room was stifling hot. Tempani rolled up the sleeves of her wintergreen dress while she bustled around the kitchen boiling water and gathering cloths. She heard the faint sound of Colbert’s voice in the next room, talking to the elderly man’s wife and adult son. It had been her idea to come. To try and help Colbert in any way she could.

  She jumped at the sound of the sick man’s dry cough. This man was on the brink of death, and despite all of Colbert’s best efforts, he didn’t hold out much hope for him. His illness was too far-gone to cure, and it was just a matter of making him comfortable and waiting for him to take his last breath.

  Tempani crept into the man’s room and stood over his bed. The stench made her ill to her stomach. Colbert rushed past and added another log to the burning hearth. The extreme heat was affecting Tempani’s head, and she found herself swaying slightly as her eyes drooped. Colbert grabbed her waist and sat her on the chair beside the bed, handing her a cool cloth to dab on her flushed face.

  “You don’t have to be here,” Colbert reminded her again.

  “I need to be here,” she murmured.

  It was true. Ever since the dream of Hamalia, she felt a need to do something. To put her gifts to use. Even if she couldn’t use them to their fullest extent.

  When she steadied and her head cleared, she rose and began to soak the clean cloths in the hot water before placing them around the man’s body. She took her last one and stroked it across his sweat-covered face. She pushed his damp hair off his forehead and watched his chest rise and drop roughly with each breath he took.

  The sound of his wife weeping in the corner made her heart break. Tempani listened to her quiet, rambling prayers.

  “Tritus, God of the Afterlife. Hear my words. Take my husband from this land. I give you his hand and send him with my love. No more pain. His time is now.”

  “Ma, take a seat,” the son said. “Colbert let him pass. Please let him pass. We can’t watch anymore. His pain kills my ma!”

  “Keep him warm,” Colbert whispered to her when she stared at him with fear in her eyes.

  She nodded her head and soaked her cloth again to dab his face. Her heart leapt when his clammy and calloused hand grabbed her wrist and held on tightly, his fingers digging into her skin.

  “Send me to the afterlife,” he croaked through his cracked lips. “Take my hands.”

  She stepped away from his grip and stared at him, scared and unsure of what he was saying.

  “It is you,” he muttered. “You have come to save us all. You have the Power. Take my hands.”

  Tempani glanced at Colbert, fear swimming in her wide brown eyes.

  “Do as he wants. You can ask questions later.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. I won’t watch him die.”

  “Please miss,” the wife begged. “He is ready.”

  Hot tears slid down Tempani’s cheeks as it drizzled outside. She couldn’t watch someone die. It was too painful as it carried memories of her mother’s murder. She had been helpless then but not now. She could help this man. They could make him better.

  His hands reached for hers, but she just stared at them, shaking her head.

  “Tempani,” Colbert hissed. “Do it. You have to.” He grabbed her and pulled her towards the man and into his withered hands.

  As soon as their hands were clasped, a sense of peace washed over her. Before she knew what she was doing, she raised their joined hands to her heart and locked eyes with him. The room they were sitting in had disappeared and they stood before a looming golden gate.

  “I accept the afterlife. I go to it with love and without fear. Take me Tritus,” he muttered before closing his eyes.

  “And you who brings him, do you allow him to accept the afterlife?” A booming male voice roared in Tempani’s ears. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming out in pain as she felt her entire being roaring with fire.

  “I allow him to accept the afterlife,” she yelped. Please make the burning stop, she screamed in her mind. She was not ready for death yet.

  “It shall be,” the voice roared again.

  Colbert watched in amazement as a light radiated from their joint hands and Tempani’s body grew rigid.

  The old man’s chest rose and dropped once more before his body relaxed and he slipped away peacefully. Colbert turned, open mouthed, to Tempani, who was trying unsuccessfully to stand. The pain she felt when she had spoken to the voice had disappeared, but she was unable to stop shaking.

  The wife continued to weep, but she now felt a sense of relief. Her husband’s suffering was over, and she had this girl to thank for it. She rushed forward and fell at Tempani’s feet, wrapping her arms around the frightened girl’s waist.

  “Bless you my child,” she cried.

  Tempani stood and without a second glance at the other occupants in the room, she fled to a waiting Mincha, and together they galloped home. Her guard trailed behind her, trying to keep up. The fear she had felt in the man’s room had vanished, and she was in a state of tranquility. She knew she had done the right thing. There was not a shred of doubt in her mind. She had played a part in the man’s search for peace, and Tempani couldn’t help but feel blessed that she had been able to help.

  She arrived back at the manor and had an overwhelming desire to be close to her mother. She knew the right wing was off limits but didn’t think it would hurt to go up there. She just wanted to feel her presence again, and their new rooms held no trace of her.

  Otto was at the palace and Chae was out on duty so she wouldn’t get caught. She reached the top of the stairs and had a quick glance backwards. There was no one around. She crept over to the door and pushed it open. It gave a little resistance and then burst open.

  Her mouth gaped as she looked around. If this wing wasn’t in use why was it dusted? Why could she smell food and the stale stench of brandy? She wandered down the hall to her old room. It was bare except for a bed. She moved across to Chae’s and saw the same thing, except his bed looked like it had been slept in.

  Puzzled she went to the room that once belonged to her parents. It had been completely transformed. It now resembled a meeting room of some sort. Gone were the family portraits and the large bed that many a night had slept all four of them. In its place was a large table scattered with reports in a code that she had never seen before. There was a large map of Kamara on the wall, covered in red and green pins. Next to that was a smaller map that showed only the south. Kalaowin territory. Tribal names had been marked on there in a precise print.

  “What in the God’s name do you think you’re doing?” Otto screamed as he barged through the door.

  She stared up at him, bewilderment in her eyes. “What’s going on?” She asked. “What is all this?”

  He grabbed her arm and forced her to follow him into the corridor. “This wing is off limits.”

  “Is the king targeting the Kalaowins? You can’t let him!”

  “This is confidential. You had no right to snoop around here.”

  “I wasn’t snooping,” she snapped. “This is my home too, and I can go where I choose.”

  “Not when I have given orders stating otherwise.”

  “Orders? I’m not one of your men. Has all this time away made you forget you have a daughter?”

  “As my daughter you should do what you’re told.
You were raised to have better manners.”

  “And what would you know?” She cried. “You sent me away as soon as it all became too hard. You haven’t been a father for a very long time.”

  “Your mother would be ashamed to hear you speak this way.”

  She glared at him. “It’s not me she’d be ashamed of.”

  He turned from her, unable to stand the anger and pain in her eyes. “Don’t come in here again.” And then he walked away from her.

  Tempani fled to her room and slammed the door in anger behind her, startling Zadi, who was sitting quietly by the window, lost in her own thoughts.

  “Isn’t there mending to be done?” Tempani snapped when Zadi didn’t budge from the window.

  Zadi stared at her in shock, her brown eyes looking for an explanation from her mistress. When she did not get one, she bowed her head and scurried away.

  Tempani took Zadi’s place at the window and cried silent tears. Her father had been so angry he couldn’t even look at her. He had turned away and ordered her out. Why couldn’t he see that all she wanted was the old Otto back? That she just wanted him to love her. But he hated her. It was in his eyes in those rare moments that they looked at one another.

  Tempani ignored the gentle knocking on her door, hoping whoever it was would just leave her in peace. The knocking grew louder yet she refused to answer the door.

  Zadi crept back out, prepared for another outburst from her mistress. She opened the door to show Lindow standing there.

  “Prince Nicolass is downstairs,” he said.

  Tempani did not move from the window.

  “My lady,” Lindow’s voice was gentle as he crouched beside her. “If you don’t come down, I’ll have to bring Sir Otto to entertain him.”

  Tempani turned at her father’s name and nodded to Lindow, allowing him to lead her down the stairs to the drawing room.

  “Hello,” said Nic.

  She gazed up at him, tears streaming down her face, and tried to smile. The attempt only made her cry even more.

  “Tempani?” He asked softly, his voice full of concern. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded but couldn’t stop the tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Papa hates me. I knew he didn’t love me, but I never thought he hated me,” she whimpered.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” he whispered and pulled her against him.

  “He thinks my mother would be ashamed of me. He told me so just before.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Nic said and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “You weren’t there. You don’t know what he said.” She pulled away from him and planted her hands firmly on her hips.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can we not turn this into an argument?”

  “Then don’t stand there and say he didn’t mean what he said. I know what my father is like, and when he says something, he means it.”

  “I also know your father, and I know that his temper gets the better of him,” he said.

  “Nic just go. I want to be by myself right now.”

  “No Tempani. I’m not going to let you push me away whenever you’re upset or angry. Those are the times you need me most.”

  “What I need is time to myself.”

  “Don’t push me away. You don’t have to do everything on your own. There are people here who want to help you,” he said and squeezed her hands.

  “Just leave me Nic,” she said, hot tears running down her cheeks.

  “I won’t leave you to cry alone. It’s you and me from now on. It’s time you understood that.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried over her father.

  —

  “The Power? I don’t think it wise that we speak of this here,” muttered Darby at dinner as Tempani recounted the events of the day before to him. She had to know more about it, and Darby was the only person who could help. He had the answers to everything.

  They sat huddled together at a table far from the monarchs and her friends. Tempani didn’t want anyone to know what they were talking about until she fully understood the situation herself.

  “What is the Power exactly?” She asked, ignoring Darby’s warning.

  She knew she’d heard the word before, but she couldn’t place where.

  He sighed deeply. “Put simply, the Power is a person’s ability to use magic. Not everybody is blessed with magic so those who do have it are said to have the Power.”

  “Why isn’t that term used then?”

  “The term was banished when King Raleigh passed away and his son, King Jedsen, took over. There was a very powerful sorcerer called Stefian, who loved his Power and everything that came with it. Word reached him in the capital that a young woman from the south was defying the law and practicing her magic. There was still the odd woman practicing but nothing like Serenite. She was even more powerful than he.”

  “She could send people to Tritus,” Tempani said.

  Darby nodded. “He prayed to the Gods to bless him with this gift, but they would not do so. The God Windel and Goddess Allarah visited him together and told him to stop praying for a gift he could never be given. For the gift to speak to the God of the Afterlife, or any God or Goddess, can only belong to someone with unimaginable depths of Power.”

  They paused briefly as they were served fruit.

  “Stefian kept sending men out to kill her, but they had no luck. Until Serenite was betrayed by her sweetheart.”

  Tempani gasped.

  “He was a foolish man. Believed in the lies Stefian had spread about her. That she would use her link to the Gods to destroy her enemies and eventually the kingdom,” he said. “So she was arrested and burned in the city center.”

  “People really do believe whatever they’re told, don’t they?”

  “Some people say that she wasn’t killed by the flames. The tale is that she was saved by the Goddess Allarah and felt no pain.”

  And then she remembered. The tale that Mother Chennai had told her. The one with the prophecy. A strange feeling sat in the pit of her stomach. It unsettled her.

  “Eventually all the women still practicing were rounded up and killed,” Darby continued. “King Jedsen banned the term ‘Power’ as it was connected to Serenite. There hasn’t been a sorceress since her, but that’s not to say there won’t be another one.”

  “But girls are still born with magic.”

  “Oh yes. Stefian could never have put a stop to that. But without training, they don’t know how to use it. Or at best they go to the convent and spend their lives healing people.”

  “I know what you’re thinking Darby, but what happened yesterday does not mean I have strong magic. I would know if I did.”

  “Perhaps.” Darby raised his head and saw Nic approaching them. “I suggest that you keep this between the two of us for now. I can’t imagine how your friends would take the news. Especially Nicolass,” he said quickly. “We will talk more about it another time. In private.”

  “Ah, Lord Darby! Just the man I was looking for. Father has requested that you join him in a bottle of our finest brandy to celebrate,” he said.

  “Of course,” Darby said and rushed to the High Table.

  Tempani linked her arm through Nic’s and snuggled against his chest. “And what may I ask are we celebrating?”

  “Father just received word that my Uncle Hallam will be returning home any day now. Apparently he left Octivin a number of weeks ago and has been taking his time to reach Fenella. ‘Taking in the scenery’ he wrote.”

  “Well I can’t wait to meet him,” she said smiling, knowing how much Wimarc’s younger brother meant to Nic.

  “You will like him. Everyone does,” he said before brushing his lips against her hand. “We will also celebrate you having a smile on your face after yesterday. I take it you are feeling better?”

  “Much,” she whispered. She took Darby’s advice and did not mention anything to Nic abou
t their conversation. Although it made her feel uneasy to be keeping a secret from him, she knew it was for the best considering the circumstances.

  —

  Tempani and Darby were unable to meet over the next few days. He had been called away to the university just outside Fenella to meet with an old scholar friend of his who had spent the last two years living deep in the deserts of Horatia. Tempani was desperate for him to return so they could talk more about it. So he could reassure her that she wasn’t a sorceress.

  The arrival of Prince Hallam of Lenthir had not helped her anxiety. She was a bundle of nerves as she dressed for the feast they were holding in his honor.

  Zadi ran a comb through Tempani’s glistening locks and fastened the back of her blue gown. She twirled Tempani around to face her and ran her eyes across her appearance.

  “Well Zadi, do I pass inspection?”

  “Yes, my lady,” she said quietly.

  Tempani had apologized to Zadi for the way she had spoken to her but their relationship was on shaky ground. She felt awful for having treated Zadi in the one way she had never wanted to. As a slave.

  “He is one of the most important people in Nic’s life so I have to make a good impression,” she said, hoping to get a conversation with the reserved girl started.

  “You will impress him more if you flash him one of your smiles,” Chae remarked as he walked in and grabbed Tempani’s arm. “We’re going to be late.”

  They entered the Royal Dining Hall and took their seats beside Madoc and Dahlia, who was looking beautiful in her crimson dress. As Tempani and Nic weren’t betrothed and she was not a member of the Royal Parliament, she was not allowed to sit at the monarchs’ table.

  Tempani watched Famette at the monarchs’ table, trying to engage Duchess Sylena in conversation before turning to Madoc, whom she noticed, was squirming uncomfortably in his chair.

  “What is wrong with you? Have you forgotten how to sit still?”

  “I don’t like these formal dinners,” he complained. “Course after course. And we can’t get up until his Majesty is finished.”

  “He means, he doesn’t like having to be on his best behavior at these dinners. I’m afraid you’ve got no choice. As Nic’s friend, it’s something you will have to live with,” Chae laughed and clasped his friend’s shoulder.

 

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