The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  It wasn’t until they reached the fourth and final pit that the true gruesomeness of the fights became apparent. This pit was three times the size of the others, and surrounded by sharp wooden spikes covered in barbed wire. The immediate area was so packed with spectators, Taro and Kurian could barely see what was going on.

  The sand in the pit was hard and dark from all the blood, sweat, and spit that had been beaten from combatants. It looked like bloody clay. The two shirtless Helian men inside had their heads low, their hands wrapped in blood-spattered cloth, and were tearing the ever-living hell out of each other.

  One of the men was larger, in his mid-thirties, and looked as though he was sculpted from solid rock. He was a titan of a man. In a matter of seconds, he was on the ground. The other man was lanky and young, not even twenty years old. Through the scars on his face and his nearly clean-shaven head, Taro recognized him for who he was: Sikes.

  Sikes didn’t notice Taro. His attention was directed at the huge man on the ground. The man stirred, trying to stand, but Sikes brought his heel down hard onto his back, putting him out of the fight for good. There was a great deal of cheering and booing as the bettors collected their winnings.

  Sikes stepped out of the pit, his skin slick with sweat, and one of his friends tossed him a towel. Taro pushed through the milling crowd, not an easy task as everyone was trying to get Sikes’s attention, offering congratulations or offers of employment. Sikes seemed to be reveling in the notoriety, but when his eyes met Taro’s, his mood soured considerably.

  Sikes glanced around the underground as if looking for someone, then guided Taro to an adjacent cave. It was an area filled with weights, fighting dummies, and other training equipment.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Sikes asked, the concern plain in his voice. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kurian approaching.

  “It’s okay,” Taro said. “He’s a friend.” He looked Sikes over, noting his numerous scars, puffy cheek, and crooked ear. “You look like hell.”

  “You’ll look far worse if Thaedos finds you here,” Sikes said, spitting out some blood.

  “He’s tied up at the harbor…figuratively,” Kurian said. “We should be fine for a while.”

  “Even so, just being in Helia is suicide. You only have enemies here, Taro.”

  “You’re not my enemy.”

  Sikes rubbed his forehead. “No, I suppose I’m not. But I work for Thaedos now. And Thaedos works for Vexis and Halric. Don’t ask me how the old sinner’s still alive.”

  Taro sat on a weight bench. “I know. We had a bit of an altercation up in Aleth. He kicked my ass. And Nima…”

  Sikes gave a weary sigh. “Taro—”

  Taro held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Save it. I’m not here for her. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I need information. I thought maybe you could get it for me.”

  Sikes sat across from Taro. “I’m listening.”

  “Kadia Andurin. I need to know where she’s being held. If she’s at a hospital, or just tucked away somewhere. I figured if you asked around…”

  “No need,” Sikes said. “She’s got quarters at the Imperial Palace.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Thaedos,” Sikes said. “He’s made more than a few trips there over the last few weeks. But what does Kadia Andurin have to do with anything? Last I heard, she’s as cracked as they come.”

  “I need to…” Taro paused, trying to find the right words. “…talk to her.”

  Sikes’ eyes suddenly lit up. “This isn’t about revenge, is it? Vexis hurts your sister, so you hurt hers?”

  “That’s not it at all,” Taro said quickly. This wasn’t completely true, of course.

  “We’re not going to hurt Kadia,” Kurian said. “I won’t allow that.”

  “And you are…?”

  “A friend of Kadia’s,” Kurian said. “We won’t hurt her, you have my word.”

  “The word of a stranger doesn’t mean much to me,” Sikes said, looking at Kurian contemptuously. “And I don’t much care what happens to Vexis’ sister. I just don’t think coming here is particularly smart.”

  “So she’s in the palace,” Taro said, bringing the conversation back into focus. He made a gesture to the caverns around them. “I know these caves go on for miles. Some go to the Aculam. Do any go to the palace?”

  Sikes nodded. “Aye, they do. Like I said, Thaedos goes up to the palace now and again. He uses the caves to get there.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  Sikes shook his head. “Can’t say I do, and going in blind would be a bad idea. You’d starve before you found the end of these tunnels.” He thought about it. “You said Thaedos was at the harbor?”

  Taro nodded. “Receiving a shipment of weapons.”

  “That’s the fifth one this month. After deliveries, he usually updates the ledgers.” Sikes pointed in the general direction of Thaedos’ gambling room. “Then he heads to the palace. I reckon you have an hour, maybe less before he gets back. If you can follow him without being caught…”

  “What about guards?”

  “I can distract them, no problem. They’re friends o’ mine.”

  Taro stood and shook Sikes by the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Sikes.”

  Sikes stood and hugged Taro. “Don’t get yourself killed, mate.”

  Taro motioned at Sikes’ battered body. “I could say the same thing.”

  “These?” Sikes asked, running his fingers over his cuts and bruises. “These are love taps. Trust me, the ones who gave ‘em to me got it far worse.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The Golden Throne

  Thaedos arrived within the hour, moving with an air of bustling efficiency through the fighting pits. He chatted with friends, asked his bookkeepers about how the fights had gone, and took a few notes in a leather-bound book he had tucked under his arm.

  Taro and Kurian kept a safe distance, pretending to enjoy one of the fights. The central area of the underground, where the fighting pits were located, was as far as most people would go. There were several attached caverns, some of which had been converted into livable areas by Thaedos. Five tunnel-like caverns extended from the central area as well, each connected to the vast web of tunnels that ran throughout the Helian underground.

  The further one got from the fighting pits, the bigger the chance of getting lost in the sprawl. There were no lights further in, and little chance of escape without already knowing the way back. With this in mind, Taro and Kurian were especially careful to remember their way through the dark tunnels, just in case Thaedos got too far ahead of them.

  The old man wasn’t especially fast, but he seemed to know the terrain and turns very well. Taro and Kurian had to follow him in complete darkness. However, Kurian came in handy with this. Not only could he hear every step Thaedos made, even from hundreds of yards away, but apparently he could see in total darkness. When Taro first met Kurian, he thought his eyes glowed with their own light. Now that they were in total darkness, he could see that it was true. In addition to his natural true sight, those yellow eyes had their own inner light, and even in the pitch black, Kurian could see with near perfect vision. Taro could only stay close, trusting that the dragon wouldn’t lead them in the wrong direction. Besides, Taro had his own problem to deal with, as there were a great many rocks, pottery, overturned carts, and bent metal tracks strewn throughout the tunnels that he had to be careful to avoid. Without his walking stick, this proved particularly difficult.

  Fifteen minutes into following Thaedos, and Kurian stopped dead in his tracks. Only his eyes were visible in the darkness.

  “He stopped,” Kurian whispered.

  “Where is he?”

/>   “He’s talking to someone. Moving again. His shoes went from stepping on earth, to stepping on stone.” Kurian sniffed. “And there’s something else…”

  Taro sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

  As they neared, the smell became more noticeable. It was the smell of baking bread, sweet butter, sizzling meat, all accompanied by the sounds and smells of a busy kitchen.

  The tunnel ended a hundred yards down. A perfectly rectangular seam of light peeked through the rocks. Taro put his hand against it, and pushed. It opened like a door into a storage room filled with sacks of flour and sugar, tubs of coffee beans, and wax-wrapped cubes of dark chocolate beside an assortment of fine spices in tall urns. Hanging on hooks along the wall were aprons, cloth faceguards, and white gloves.

  The door they’d gone through was, in fact, a tall cabinet on bronze hinges, designed to hide the entrance to the caves. On the other side of the storage room was a real door, cracked just enough that Taro could peek through to the other side. As he suspected, they were in the kitchens of the Imperial Palace.

  Scores of cooks swarmed the vast kitchens, kneading dough, stirring pots, and preparing dishes. The smell of braised pork and fish filled the air. Based on the amount of food being prepared, the sheer number of cooks and servers, there must’ve been a feast going on upstairs. There were far too many workers to just walk out into the open, and it was only a matter of time before someone came into the storage room.

  A thought came to Taro, but by the time he turned around, he saw that Kurian was already well ahead of him. He’d taken one of the aprons from its hook, and slid the top strap over his head.

  “This might work if someone’s just glancing at us from the corner of their eye,” Kurian said, “but one good look and they’re going to know something’s off.”

  Taro took one of the aprons. “Then we’ll be quick. There’s no reason for anyone to suspect we’re even here. Just act natural. If you look like you belong, people will usually not bother you.”

  “I saw the palace from outside earlier, it’s massive. Even if your friend Sikes is right and Kadia is here, finding her is not going to—” Kurian paused mid-sentence. “Someone’s coming.”

  Taro peeked through the crack in the door, and saw one of the workers coming toward the storage room with a pushcart.

  “Shit,” Taro said. “Get back behind the shelf.”

  “Wait,” Kurian said. “Maybe we can use this to our advantage. Backs to the wall.”

  They didn’t have any time to discuss it, as the door creaked open mere seconds later. Taro reflexively put his back to the wall, and held his breath as the worker rolled his cart inside and began piling it with burlap sacks of Shian coffee beans. Humming to himself, he didn’t notice them.

  Kurian stepped sideways as quietly and gracefully as a cat, and gently touched the door until it was closed. Taro took the cue, and grabbed the worker from behind, wrapping his hands firmly over the man’s mouth before he could cry out.

  The man kicked and struggled, but was unable to pull free. Taro dragged him behind the shelf and into the dark caves on the other side.

  “Okay,” Taro whispered into the man’s ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. In a second, I’ll let go, and I’m going to ask you a few questions. That’s all. If you yell, it’s going to end badly. Got it?”

  The worker was a portly man in his late forties, and in the little light creeping into the cave, Taro could see his skin was red and slick with sweat. The worker nodded, his eyes looking panicked. Taro released, and the man began to bawl and speak a mile a minute.

  “Listen friend, I’m just a server. Please don’t hurt me, I got two kids and a wife back home,” the words spilled out of his mouth until Taro shushed him.

  “Like he said, we’re not going to hurt you,” Kurian said. “We just need information.”

  The worker stared at Kurian. In the darkness, he appeared to just be an obscure form with two glowing yellow eyes. “W-what are you?” the worker asked.

  Kurian hesitated. “I’m one of the dragonkin,” he said, keeping his voice low and serious. “Your Shahl has wronged us, and I’m here to set things right.”

  “The Shahl is dead, my lord. Please don’t punish us for his crimes.”

  Kurian made up a lie so quickly, it impressed even Taro. “We’re perfectly content with leaving your people alone. But we demand revenge. Tell me where the Shahl’s children are.”

  The man swallowed hard. “Well, I couldn’t say where all of them are. Vexis Andurin is First Advisor to the Emperor now, you see, and—”

  “Kadia Andurin,” Taro interrupted. “Where is Kadia?”

  The worker shook and stammered. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

  “You have to know something,” Taro insisted. “A clue, a way forward. Something.”

  The worker was in tears. “I…I know that the High Inquisitor spends time with Lady Kadia. Sometimes takes his evening tea in her quarters, according to some gossip. He doesn’t go too far, so perhaps their rooms are close.”

  “Where are his rooms?” Kurian asked.

  “In the northern wing, third floor. That’s all I know, I swear!”

  “How far is that?” Kurian asked.

  “N-Not far, but you’ll have to pass the Imperial Court, and it’ll be swarming with guards on account of the coronation today.”

  “Coronation?” Taro asked.

  “Of Prince Lethen Rutharan,” the man said. “The Lords Paramount are to proclaim him emperor, and throw their swords at his feet. C-Can I go now?”

  “You’ve been very helpful,” Taro said. “But we can’t have you running about, so we’re going to have to tie you up in here for a minute.”

  “Tie me up?” the man asked frantically. “Please, I won’t tell nobody.”

  Kurian came beside them, and touched his finger to the man’s forehead. “No need,” he said. The man went limp as a boned fish, and Taro gently set him down.

  “What was that?” Taro asked, nudging the unconscious man with his foot.

  “A simple mind hex. Not something they teach in the Magisterium.”

  “I heard they’re illegal,” Taro said as he patted down the worker. In his front cloak pocket was a ring of keys, which Taro took.

  Kurian shrugged. “Illegal in Endra, but then again, we’re not in Endra.”

  “Actually, all magic is illegal for commoners in Helia, so bad example.”

  Kurian smirked. “Please. Do I look like a commoner?” He started back to the storage room. “Let’s hurry. Eventually somebody’s going to notice this guy is missing.”

  They left the unconscious worker behind the hinged shelf, and took his wooden pushcart out into the kitchen. Taro and Kurian moved briskly and purposefully as they wheeled sixty pounds of coffee beans through the bustling kitchen.

  Most of the workers were, thankfully, too busy or distracted to pay them any attention. However, the kitchens were a veritable maze of rooms, and each turn they made seemed to be the wrong one. Workers peeled onions, chopped carrots, and tended to roasting slabs of meat over open flames.

  Eventually they made it to a wine cellar; though it was even further downstairs, it seemed to be free of workers. It was a long, rectangular room with a low, arched ceiling. Forty oak barrels, each taller than Taro, were sideways in rows of four. Each held a different sort of malt beer. In the back were bottles of fine wines, all of which had a thin coat of dust on them. Some of them were over two hundred years old: fine Meserean Red, Vinestrian Noir, and Alamandos Du Pont.

  Mr. Boors had been a collector of fine wine, and so Taro recognized their value. In the old days, and under different circumstances, Taro might’ve been tempted to swipe a bottle or two, as many were worth dozens of gold sovereigns.

  In the far corner of th
e beer cellar, Taro heard footsteps and wheels coming. He and Kurian stepped sideways between two of the barrels, and listened as the wheels and footsteps neared. Taro peeked around, and saw a single worker in a white apron. He was pushing a tin container with a hole in the top. He uncorked it, and filled the container with beer from one of the taps with a mechanical efficiency. Afterwards, instead of going back to the kitchens, he went the opposite way, toward the wine stocks. A moment passed, and Taro heard a door shut.

  Realizing they’d found their way out, Taro and Kurian left their wooden cart and hurried to the exit. It was a small wooden ramp that led to a heavy door.

  They exited into a hallway on the ground floor. To call it a hallway wouldn’t have done it much justice. It was as wide across as a river, and the vaulted ceiling was eight stories high. There were murals on the ceiling, a vast painting that must’ve taken decades and teams of artisans to finish. It held scenes from Helia’s sorted history: stylized profiles of the Rutharan family, and the shining images of the Old Gods surrounding a treacherous ocean, filled with sea serpents and monsters. Intermixed with these fantastical images were panes of clear glass, letting warm, natural light into the chamber.

  All of this overlooked the palace throne room. Taro had seen the throne room of the Grand Aculam, where he had first met the Shahl. This place put it to shame. Not just in size, but in grandeur.

  The hallway Taro and Kurian were now in connected directly into the circular throne room. In the center was an enormous golden Ghostwood tree so tall that the curves of its highest branches brushed against the mural above. Its trunk was craggy and so wide that six men set abreast couldn’t encircle it with their arms.

  The roots of the tree dug into the stone, and over the years the Helians had built around them. There were walkways going over larger ones, and grates between others so that they could be crossed. At the foot of the golden tree was an elevated throne surrounded by rushing water; this water came from grates in the back of the chamber, and must’ve been fed directly from the River Cardaeros. The mountain water was freezing, and cooled the room a great deal.