The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  Vexis made a commiserating face. “Don’t you have…servants, or something?”

  “G-G-Grandfather doesn’t l-l-like servants. Too much noise,” Lethen said, visibly trying to bring his stutter under control.

  “The Emperor can speak?” Halric asked, tilting his head curiously.

  Lethen shook his head. “N-No, but he lets me know when he’s unhappy.”

  “And you just stay here, taking care of him?” Vexis probed. “All day, every day?”

  Lethen nodded. “Sometimes the nurses come around. Sometimes Dr. Halric pays him a visit, though not in a long while.”

  Dr. Halric leered nearby, seeming amused that Lethen didn’t notice him. He then spoke, setting a concerned hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Your Highness, we’ve got grave news to share with you. You might want to sit.”

  Prince Lethen cleared off one of the armchairs of garbage, and did so.

  Halric looked around momentarily for a place to sit, then gave up and decided to remain standing. “There’s no sense in obfuscating the facts,” he began, clearing his throat. “The Shahl is dead.”

  Lethen’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Th-That’s impossible.”

  “It’s the truth, Lethy,” Vexis said.

  “H-H-How can you be sure?”

  Vexis folded her hands across her chest. “I killed him.”

  “You k-killed your own father?”

  “He was no father of mine,” Vexis said.

  “D-Does anyone know?”

  “Not yet,” Halric said. “But they soon will. Do you understand the implications?”

  Lethen’s seafoam-green eyes narrowed. “War?”

  Halric nodded. “We have limited time, Your Highness. You are the lawful heir to the throne. If we act now, we can—”

  Lethen shook his head. “N-No, my grandfather is.”

  Vexis squeezed in to sit beside Lethen, wrapping her arm around him. “Lethy, dearest. Could we see your grandfather?”

  Lethen shook his head violently, looking extremely uneasy about Vexis touching him. His stutter only got worse. “H-H-He wouldn’t like that. Not one bit.”

  Vexis could read the prince like a book. When other people looked at him, they saw a stammering boy of low intelligence. Vexis saw the truth. He wasn’t stupid, he was exhausted. He wanted to live life, but his obligations were keeping him from it. He’d never admit it aloud, though. She had to press the issue.

  She leaned into his ear, and spoke softly. “How can you stand living like this?” she whispered. “You’re royalty. You’re destined to rule an entire nation.”

  “W-When my grandfather dies, I will. I d-d-don’t think that will happen.”

  “What if I could make it happen, love?” Vexis whispered darkly.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do,” Vexis pushed on. “I think you’ve been waiting for the day when you’d be free from…this.” She motioned grimly at the manor. “You want to rule. To have people adore you. Am I wrong?”

  Lethen shook his head. “I’ve accepted my place.”

  Vexis touched his arm. “Oh no, never do that. Never accept your place in life. There’s always a higher level to reach, a higher ladder to climb. I think the idea excites you.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because your stutter’s gone, Lethy.”

  Lethen swallowed hard. Noticing its absence seemed to increase his anxiety, and his stutter returned even worse. “I-I-It’s not that.”

  Vexis touched her fingertips to his lips. “Shhh, it’s okay. I understand. I’m just like you, if you think about it. My dad lived for two centuries, with no end in sight. Sometimes I wish he’d just…die. And guess what? I made that happen. I could make it happen for you, too.”

  Lethen’s cheeks and eyes were red, and hot tears were running down his face. He looked torn inside, and his green eyes shifted from Vexis, to Halric, to the stairwell in the center of the foyer. When he spoke, all his emotions seemed to spill out. “It’s not good to think that way.”

  “It’s okay,” Vexis said, pulling close to him. “Nobody will ever know. I certainly won’t tell. It’ll be our little secret, Lethy.” She tilted his chin up with her fingers. “Right?”

  Lethen just looked on, quiet for a long moment as the wheels turned in his head. Finally, he asked, “Will it hurt him?”

  Vexis made a concerned noise. “Absolutely not. All I want to do is restore the natural order, and let him pass away on his own.” She touched Prince Lethen’s arm. “And you…I want to make you the most powerful man in the world. How does it sound: ‘Emperor Lethen Rutharan.’”

  She jostled him and smiled, and he briefly returned it.

  “It sounds pretty good,” Lethen said, then looked sharply at the staircase. “I won’t have to see it, will I?”

  Dr. Halric had been silent until now, watching Vexis work. “No,” he said.

  “But,” Vexis said, “if you’re going to be emperor, you need to face your challenges head on, wouldn’t you say?”

  Lethen was quiet as he thought. A minute passed. Then two. When he finally looked up, he nodded. “Follow me,” he said resolutely.

  Prince Lethen led Vexis and Halric to the fifth floor, in the eastern wing of the manor. While there was a great deal of furniture and antiquities packed on the stairwell, the hallway to the Emperor’s chambers were not like the rest of the house. There were four more armed imperial guards here, equally as bored and dimwitted as the guards outside. A smaller stairwell led from a side door directly into the hall, giving them a way in and out without having to walk through the manor itself. Lethen dismissed them, and they didn’t put up much of an argument, though they insisted on remaining on the grounds.

  Emperor Rutharan’s chambers were circular, and divided into two huge sections. The outer section was a long, curved hallway with a red floral carpet. Based on the tapestry of cobwebs stretched on every candleholder and statue, and the layers of dust blanketing everything in sight, this area got little traffic. To the left was a small kitchen, empty and unused. To the right was an alchemical clinic, also unused.

  “He stopped eating and taking medicine before I was born,” Lethen said, answering Vexis’ unspoken question.

  What had once been a thriving wing devoted to Emperor Rutharan’s comfort and well-being was now used only for storage, and packed into every inch of floor space were hundreds of dust-covered paintings. Some were framed, some were furled, some hung on the walls, and some leaned against maid carts.

  There were hundreds of colored oil paints, too, alongside solvents and different sized brushes. None had been disturbed in years.

  Vexis touched a stack of paintings piled up to her waist. “What’s all this?”

  “M-My dad said that when he could move, grandfather used to paint. Even when he went blind.”

  The number of paintings was noteworthy, and it seemed like more than one man could produce in a lifetime. There was a clear delineation between those done earlier in Emperor Rutharan’s life, and those done later. The earlier ones were clean, clear, with thin and even strokes. But the older he got, the more surreal and chaotic the paintings became.

  Most of the paintings were of the same thing, repeated endlessly. A narrow eye on a black background. On some canvases there was only one, staring out like a cat’s eye in the darkness. On others there were many, grouped in bizarre combinations. Some had shadowy tendrils like a void apparition. Some were attached to a dark, crooked figure clad in white. Some had a mouth, smiling hideously.

  Few things unnerved Vexis these days—she’d seen far too many real horrors in her life to be disturbed by nonsense—but she had to admit she found the paintings altogether unsettling.

  The eyes were like none she’d ever seen before, but s
he felt a familiarity with them that she couldn’t explain. She picked up one of the canvases and stared for a full five minutes, her eyes scanning over the dark colors and shapes as if it were a puzzle to be solved. Lethen placed his hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her trance-like state.

  “What is it?” Vexis asked, looking back.

  “Y-You shouldn’t t-touch it,” Lethen said. “He doesn’t like when people touch his paintings.”

  The hallway circled around a central room accessible by a set of double doors. There was a wall separating them from the room, but in the silence, Vexis could hear a low, nearly inaudible groan coming from inside.

  “H-He knows we’re here,” Lethen said nervously.

  “You said he sent his servants away?” Dr. Halric asked, his voice peaking curiously.

  “He said they were watching him.”

  Vexis gave a sickly frown. “Trapped in a body that’s aged two hundred years, unable to die. It’s not surprising he’d go mad.”

  They came to the chamber door, and Prince Lethen took four hard breaths, steeling himself for what was to come. When he didn’t seem able to stop his hyperventilating, Vexis put one hand on his chest and brushed the other on his cheek.

  “You can do this,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. “It’s a blessing for him. This is no way to live, not for you, not for him.”

  Lethen nodded, his face red and wet. “I know, I know. It’s just…it’s been so l-l-long. I don’t know what I’ll do once he’s g-g-gone.”

  “You’ll rule,” Vexis said imperiously.

  Lethen took another hard breath, and pushed open the chamber doors.

  The inside was dimly lit. Surprisingly, hanging along the walls were several magistry lanterns that must’ve been imported from the Magisterium long ago. Their design was practically ancient, but they still functioned.

  The central chamber held the newest of Emperor Rutharan’s paintings, though each was decades old. They were surreal, and the last of them was a chaotic mash of reds, purples, and black. Perhaps they were letters, maybe a language, but it was hard to tell.

  In the center of the room was a long bed with a raised back, and on it, with thin blue sheets pulled up to his chest, was Emperor Rutharan.

  He was hundreds of years old, and looked every single one of his years. He was emaciated, tiny, and wrinkled. His arms and fingers were thin as toothpicks, his fingernails long, brown, and gamely. He didn’t speak, but through his anguished groans Vexis saw he had only a few teeth left. His eyes were gray, and he seemed totally blind.

  Moving closer, Vexis felt something as she stared at the old man before her: pity. It was a foreign emotion, but it was hard not to pity something so pathetic. As she watched the ancient man, she finally understood. This was the fate that her father had attempted to avoid. Had he lived much longer, he would’ve ended up in a similar state. The Shahl, like Emperor Rutharan, was a prisoner of his own immortality.

  Vexis glanced sideways at Lethen and Halric. “Stay by the door,” she said, and moved to stand at Emperor Rutharan’s bedside. She removed the Arclight and Netherlight from her pocket, and they shone together, illuminating the room. When the rays of the Arclight touched the Emperor, he breathed his first painless breath in a century.

  His vision seemed to return to him, and he managed to turn his head in Vexis’ direction. His mouth moved, and at first only inarticulate groans came out. Eventually, however, he managed to form a word.

  “W…who?” he rasped, his voice several volumes below a whisper.

  “My name is Vexis Andurin, daughter of Valros Andurin,” she said, her voice hard.

  “W…why…?”

  “Valros is dead,” Vexis said. “Find him on the Great Sea of the afterlife, and take your revenge.”

  The Emperor groaned, then a faint half-smile appeared on his thin lips. “Th-th-thank…”

  Before he could finish, Vexis touched the Netherlight to the man’s chest. The crystal pulsed once, and dark purple ribbons of energy crept over his body. He seemed to welcome it, but at the last minute, when his eyes peered toward the chamber door, he stirred violently.

  Though it didn’t seem possible given his fragility, Emperor Rutharan leaned up and grabbed hold of Vexis’ collar. The act was so startling, she almost dropped the Netherlight.

  He was too weak to pull her closer to him, but managed to pull his tiny body closer to her. His eyes stared down Dr. Halric from across the room, and he pointed his boney fingers directly at him.

  Halric returned the look, but there wasn’t even a hint of an expression on his face. No fear, no surprise, no joy. Nothing. He eyes were a blank slate.

  With his last breath, Emperor Rutharan said his final words: “Below…Nir Daras…”

  With that, he fell back onto the bed, and his breathing stopped.

  Vexis stood beside the man’s body for a long moment. He seemed even smaller now, if that were possible. Prince Lethen eventually joined her, moving cautiously to his ancestral grandfather’s bedside.

  “Is it over?” Lethen asked, his face wet with tears.

  Vexis felt sick to her stomach. “It’s over.” She looked at Halric. “What was all that about?”

  Dr. Halric gripped the raven head of his cane. “I couldn’t say. Maybe I reminded him of someone he used to know.” He quickly changed the subject. “We should alert the Golden Court immediately. They’ll want to confirm he’s passed.”

  Chapter Four

  The Laws of Men

  Nima hurried through the corridors of the Imperial Palace, trying to keep pace with Vexis. Vexis was always standoffish, her emotions ranging from devious to manic, but when she was near her sister, Kadia, she seemed almost gentle. This was the case now, as she was leading Kadia along, her hand tucked under the taller girl’s arm.

  Vexis was the spitting image of Kadia. Strong blonde hair, smooth and soft features, and both were shorter than Nima, who wasn’t especially tall herself. But Kadia’s insanity had taken its toll. Parts of her hair were in patches from her tearing it out, and there were long scars along her wrists and ankles that Nima recognized as being self-inflicted.

  During Nima’s year in Helia, she’d never seen Kadia as anything more than a blabbering mess. But, when she was with her sister, Kadia calmed down considerably, almost to the point of being intelligible.

  “It’s okay,” Vexis said, stopping before they reached the end of the hall. Kadia was crying, and shaking her head as Vexis explained that she, too, had to come to the meeting at the Golden Council. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “But why?” Kadia said, fidgeting. “The room will be so full, so small, so grand. How can I be around that? Watching, watching, watching.”

  “The lords need to see that the Inquisitors are behind Prince Lethen. Don’t worry, Dr. Halric’s gone ahead to explain everything to them. You don’t have to talk to anyone, just stay by me and nobody will bother you.” She lifted Kadia’s chin, bringing her eyes to meet her own. “Can you do that?”

  Kadia looked like a child, her eyes wet with tears. She wiped them away, and nodded.

  Nima was nervous herself, taking hard breaths as they neared the door to the council chamber. While Nima was recognized as an official member of the Helian court, she was still an outsider. The only Endran around, and some viewed her as just a curiosity—one of the Shahl’s pets that he accepted only because of Dr. Halric.

  Vexis must’ve noticed her nervousness, because once Kadia calmed down, she turned her attention to Nima.

  “You need to be strong,” Vexis said seriously. “They’re a bunch of loudmouthed old men, nothing you haven’t encountered before. Don’t show even an inkling of fear, or they’ll jump on it. There are only two things Helians respect, and the first is strength.”

  “
What’s the second?” Nima said, sensing it was expected of her.

  “Law,” Vexis said. “It’s the reason they let Valros rule for so long, because the law demanded it, and why we need Prince Lethen to take the throne. He has the only claim that the Golden Council can accept.”

  “And what if they don’t accept it?” Nima asked.

  Vexis flashed a dark look. “Then we’ll have to convince them…but this isn’t something we can do with force. If we can’t get the council on our side, it could lead the outer cities to rebel. It would be a disaster.”

  “You sure know a lot about Helian politics for living in Endra so long.”

  “Learn as much as you can about your enemies, and you can always guess what they’re going to do,” Vexis said.

  “The council is our enemy?”

  Vexis put her hand to Nima’s cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl, everyone is our enemy. The sooner you understand that, the better.” She ran her hand down her face and onto her shoulder. “Now, before we go in, we’re going to need a new name for you. No offense, but ‘Nima’ doesn’t exactly project strength.”

  “Well,” Nima said quietly, “it’s short for Nimera, if that’s any better.”

  Vexis thought about it briefly. “Inquisitor Nimera. I like it. That’d strike fear into my heart.”

  They reached the door to the council chamber. With a name like the ‘Golden Council,’ Nima expected a chamber of lavish decadence. It fell short of that mark, and was fairly small compared to some of the grander rooms in the palace. There was, in fact, no real gold to be seen. The table in the center of the room was hardwood, covered in scattered scrolls and glass goblets full of wine. On the opposite side of the room from where they entered, where a wall would normally be, the room opened onto a balcony overlooking Helia Edûn.

  The bright Helian sun rose over the sand dunes in the distance, bathing the sandstone buildings in vibrant red light. With no glass or barrier to the outside, the entire chamber smelled of crisp river water, and caught the occasional ding of a harbor bell as ships came downriver.