The Tainted Shrine, page 28
“Your Majesty, please…” The Seer’s sister barely had an accent, her soft tones edged with fear as she enunciated each Vraithii word with polished care.
“Shut up.” Elsephere turned her attention on Armand. “So, you thought you could kidnap my brother and escape from the cells, did you? I will have you flayed for it. Your co-conspirators will not make it out of the city. You will burn for this.”
The young man frowned, his mouth slightly open. The usual expression of a witless Seer struggling to keep up with the elegant Vraithii language. Elsephere turned to the sister, pointing the sharp blade at her heart.
“You will submit to arrest and be questioned.” She spoke slowly so the Seers could follow. His sister looked on the verge of tears. Elsephere moved to grab her, to drive home the message.
As Elsephere lunged, the sister screamed and shied away. Armand leapt forward, wrestling the blade out of Elsephere’s hands, shouting in Ilasean at his terrified sister. Another crash rang out from the stairs, this time bringing with it a hot gust of wind and the sharp tang of smoke. Shouts from the street merged into a clamouring chorus of Ilasean rage, the voices of her guards holding back the tide swiftly drowned in the din.
She held onto her sword, though Armand used his mass to shove her away from the door. The sister squeaked and darted down the hallway with her head bowed, all care gone for the belongings she had been collecting. The brother yelled something and ran after her, his feet slipping in his haste to reach her. Elsephere righted herself and gave chase.
The stairs cracked from the heat, their dry wooden boards hot even through her boots. She caught sight of the brother’s sandy hair and broad shoulders ducking towards the kitchen, through thick black smoke. Fire spread from a torch tossed in through the broken window, a large stone revealing the method of entry. The front door hung ajar, a rapidly growing crowd of angry Ilaseans congregating in front of her overwhelmed guard as they defended their position. More would come soon, she knew, both of soldiers and peasants.
Capturing the two Seer siblings was out of the question now, but she was damned if she’d let them get away with their lives. Fire scorched the edge of her tunic and set her nerves on edge. The old house full of dust was a tinderbox. She had to act fast.
A rumble shook the house and the sister screamed, followed by a loud crack and the sound of wood hitting the floor. Elsephere beelined for the sound.
She found them in the kitchen. A decorative wooden beam caught and tore the sister’s dress, trapping her and leaving a long red gash down her shoulder. Ash and hot coals fell from where the wood had stood. Her brother gripped the burning beam with a gasp and lifted, allowing her just enough space to get free. Elsephere slashed at the brother with her sword. The smoke blurred her vision and her cut didn’t land. The brother pushed the burning beam at her and reached for his wounded sister, hurrying her out the back door. Elsephere ducked the burning beam and followed. She caught sight of the sister’s body vanishing over the garden wall. The brother hoisted himself up after his sister, heedless of Elsephere charging him.
Elsephere sheathed her sword with a curse and pulled onto the wall, expecting to see the pair fleeing into neighbouring gardens. Something hard struck her in the forehead and she fell on her side. She gazed up with dazed eyes as the brother dropped the rock, his sister hanging off his arm, urging him to flee with her.
The Ilas never fight back. Her last thought drifted in the wind like the rising smoke, before she lost consciousness.
◆◆◆
Elsephere stood over Willan. He was unbound in the cell. The lack of bindings was deliberate; it gave the illusion he might escape. Though he met her gaze squarely a slight tremble throughout his body gave away his terror. Two guards watched from outside the cell to ensure he could not overpower her.
Kanika escaped. Armand escaped, along with his sister. The audacity, the brazen insolence of them. Willan’s soft, blond Ilasean curls only stoked the rage in her. He would pay in their place.
Elsephere began with a sudden flurry of whip strikes, leaving him gasping. He rose to fight back and she punched him in the neck. Another round with the whip while he clutched his throat on the floor slashed open his flesh in a crisscross pattern all down his back and across his shoulders. She watched his shaking form huddled by the cell wall and considered her options. Either way, by the time she was done with him, he would be broken. He turned a fearful gaze on her. They always grew nervous when she paused. The trepidation on his face warmed her.
Finally she settled on a course. Grasping small calipers, she darted over and pinned him to the cell floor with her knee in his back. The speed of her approach took him off guard and he offered little resistance. His arms spread out beside him. She grabbed one and twisted it until he sobbed, then leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Tell me what you know of Kanika’s escape.”
His only response was a sob. She tutted and gripped one of his fingernails with the calipers. The metal grip latched easily. Milimetre by milimetre, his sobs turned to screams. His body bucked beneath her but she did not let go. Blood gathered around the edge of each nail bed then broke free in rivulets, running down his fingers and staining the calipers. She watched it flow, fascinated and delighted. The nail broke free with a wet squelch. She dropped it beside his face and leaned in again.
“Tell me what you know of Kanika’s escape,” she repeated. He was too busy gasping and crying to respond, so she started on the next nail. Instead of screaming, this time only a low moan escaped him as she tugged. She saw his eyelids flutter closed and sighed in frustration. He had passed out. She let his hand fall and drew her knife. Her fingers dragged across his bloodied back, but he did not stir, so she took his earlobe and pulled it away from his head. Perfect. With one quick slash, his ear came away in her hand.
He jolted awake, dislodging her from his back. She stepped away to watch him. His hands shook as they found the place his ear had once been. More Ilasean garbage spewed from him as he curled himself into a ball and wept. Elsephere sighed again.Pacing along her array of tools, she selected a curved claw with five talons. Careful not to place it near his arteries, she pressed it into his shoulder and worked the contraption to close into his flesh. Blood erupted from each claw, running in rivulets down his back and chest. He screamed. His clothes absorbed most of the blood. Elsephere tutted; that wouldn’t do. Withdrawing the claw she took her knife and made quick slices through the fabric, leaving him naked and trembling.
“Please, Your Highness, please… please…” Spittle flew from his lips and dribbled down his chin to mingle with tears and snot. His lean ribs drew ragged breaths around the pain, every inch of him in uncontrollable spasms. “I-I don’t know anything…”
Elsephere ignored him, choosing a wicked whip with tiny blades woven into it and unleashing a flurry of blows across his back. The taunt skin opened and spilled crimson. Willan’s cries weakened. Instead of hoarse screams he reduced to shuddering sobs. Elsephere scoffed. At this rate he would bleed to death before she got anything out of him. Perhaps pain was not the way to make him talk.
“Fetch the shite buckets from the other cells,” she told one of the guards. “Drinking it might loosen his tongue.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
KANIKA
Several days later, with a splitting headache and unshakable nausea, Kanika helped Aldert and Armand collect wood for the fire. Cassia tended to Ophi's burn. The sun beat down relentlessly from morning until night, leaving a warm haze in the air when the moons rode high in the sky. Despite the dissipated tension between her and Armand, she spoke very little with him. She employed her minimal strength to being useful as they waited for whoever Cassia expected.
Aldert was simple, Cassia was aloof and detached, and Ophi and Armand spoke softly together or stayed silent. Kanika began and ended each day tired and sweaty, longing for a few months to sit and peel her mind off the sides of her skull. The Acolytes said that the drugs would wear off sooner if she sweated it out with physical labour.
Cassia insisted they could go no further until at least seven days had passed otherwise, as a sign of respect for her likely fallen comrade.
As Kanika dropped her pitiful handful of twigs next to the mountain of logs Aldert collected, a covered wagon came into view. Armand joined Ophi to watch it's arrival. Cassia perked up instantly, though Aldert looked apprehensive. Considering Kanika spent half her time throwing up and the other half wishing she were dead, she felt no emotion towards the new arrival beyond a relief that they would move on soon. She sat on a rock and watched Cassia converse with the new arrival.
The wagon's driver dropped from her perch and led Cassia around the back. Aldert offered Kanika a drink of water. She sipped it slowly as Cassia and her friend dissolved in peals of laughter. They looked into a chest suspended beneath the cart. Kanika frowned and passed the water back to Aldert, intent on seeing what was so funny. Aldert held her back with a hand on her shoulder.
“I advise you leave them be.” He squinted against the sun. “I love my mistress dearly, but she and her assassin friends are quite twisted. Best stay out of their business.”
Kanika pursed her lips, but relented. Armand and Ophi ignored him, moving as one towards the wagon.
Another wave of nausea overcame Kanika as the water settled in her stomach. She sidled off to vomit amongst the trees, away from their camp.
As she choked and sputtered, bent double with clear liquid gushing out her mouth in waves, she thought she heard raised voices. She tried to focus on them, but only made herself dizzy.
When she was sure her stomach had nothing left to eject, she stood up, wiped her mouth with her trembling hand, and braced herself against a nearby tree. Whoever she had heard, if it was anyone at all, had fallen silent. She leaned her head back and gazed upwards, wispy clouds chasing each other across the sky.
It was these moments that she longed for and dreaded in equal measure. Without Aldert's antics, Armand's wary familiarity, she heard her own voice so clearly in her mind. It muttered and rumbled in strange tides, at times in tones much like those she'd heard her whole life, but at others something more sinister.
She couldn't brush it off forever, and she had not the strength to make it do as she commanded. Where she would go now? To wherever the Acolytes dwelt, somewhere far to the east in their walled fortress? To the north, where rumour held that the Seer Queen bided her time and gathered her forces to retake Argorien? There was always the forests, Kanika supposed, but a life alone in the wild would end with her becoming prey to some creature of the night.
The horrible options suffocated her. Her heart raced as her vision tunnelled and her mind detached itself from her, floating somewhere above. She gripped the tree. Her knuckles scraped and her fingers burned against the rough surface. To let go was to fall back into the abyss. Dizziness swept over her as a vision took hold.
The eye atop the Skytowers winked at her. Sturdy stone freshly laid supported it, and joyful song rose up from the streets below. The eye winked again. When it opened she saw herself, Ophi, Armand, and Cassia standing in a courtyard.
“South.” Reverberations shook Kanika’s mind until she thought her skull would burst. “Go south.”
The vision passed as quickly as it rose. An answer to her dilemma, handed to her from above. She resisted. Her stomach coiled at the vision’s insistence. She had just escaped the clutches of a controlling entity, and wouldn’t fall prey to another.
Conflict churned in her mind as she remembered the blood she had spilled on Ilas’ altar and the oath she had sworn to serve Her. How could she say for certain that it was Ilas who sent the vision? There was no certainty in her, not with her heart pounding and her head spinning.
She tried to focus on the world around her. Somewhere nearby she heard the stream where they collected water, and birdsong trilling and echoing through the trees. The sun beamed in gentle rays, the contrast between the bright open camp, and the dappled shade of the thicket, sending goosebumps up her arms.
She regulated her breathing until the world returned to its usual state. Tendrils of the sinister episode clung on. She felt them laying like wolves among sheep in her mind, just waiting for the moment she turned her attention elsewhere. The episodes rarely lasted long, but there was no pattern to them, no way of anticipating which days would treat her kindly and which would leave her a giddy, shuddering wreck.
She sank to the ground and waited for the aftershocks to settle. If the vision urged her south, she would head north. And damn the consequences.
◆◆◆
She headed back towards the camp, her feet falling softly on the springy earth and leaf litter. As she walked, she overheard voices arguing in heated whispers amongst the full green summer leaves of a wild hydrangea bush.
“...just try to kill him now and be done with it.”
That was Armand, she'd know him anywhere. She stopped and listened carefully for Ophi's reply, wondering what on earth would have caused Armand such distress.
“I'm sure they have a reason for bringing him here. They've done so much for us, we should trust them at least to know what they're doing,” came Ophi's nervous reply.
“We cannot travel with him. Bound or not, he will slit all our throats while we sleep. They won't hear it, but let's see what Kanika thinks. Perhaps they will listen to her.”
Kanika sighed. Clearly there was more at play here. She continued to the camp, too exhausted to involve herself in whatever they were so upset about.
She’d barely walked a dozen paces when Cassia’s voice cut through the trees around her. A male voice she recognised joined Cassia’s.
“You were granted this in order to serve a greater purpose.” Cassia sounded terse. “Do not renege on your deal. You know My Lady is not one for forgiveness.”
“I know.” Surely that was Lord Rune’s voice. “Though I cannot guarantee the same zeal I once bore for the task. Revenge is a young man’s errand.”
Kanika rolled her eyes and altered her course once more. How many people were meeting in secret in these woods?
She arrived at the camp. Meto sat bound and fuming on her rock. He was guarded by a stranger with long dark hair. Aldert stacked wood where Kanika emerged. The tunnel vision roared back to life as though it had never dissipated, her head spun, and she almost tripped in her haste to back away. Strong hands gripped her forearms before she hit the ground.
“Alright there, little Seer?” Aldert's smile, usually infectious, did nothing to quell her trembling heart. He followed her gaze and nodded slowly. “You know this lout too, do you not? Here, let's go sit a while away from them.”
He hoisted her to her feet as though she weighed nothing. He put his thick arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the long grass until they were far enough away that she could pretend she hadn't seen Meto. Aldert plopped down in a warrior's crouch and patted the grass beside him. She obliged him, squatting beside him so that all that was visible was a sea of grass stalks and the tops of the trees.
“You were drugged when we rescued you,” Aldert said. She nodded, though it hadn't been a question. “Were you always drugged whilst you were imprisoned?”
Kanika frowned and tried to think back, then shrugged.
“Mostly, yes,” she replied. “Though there were some times they didn't dose me high enough, or the effects wore off quicker than expected.”
“I know of the drug they use to subdue the Seers,” Aldert said. “In my lands, it's a powerful and sacred voyaging tool. Very few are left under the influence of it for so long. But there are some who have undergone it, and returned full of wisdom from the other side.”
The full weight of her exhaustion settled on Kanika's shoulders. Aldert attempted to take her mind off Meto, but he could not have chosen a worse subject.
“Well, I got none of that,” she snapped. “Only nightmares that haunt me even as I wake.” The gentle giant's face froze, startled by her curt reply. She sighed. “Thank you for trying to help. I'm sorry for snapping, I'm just eager to be somewhere safe. I think I'm ready to face him now.”
Aldert smiled, harbouring no ill will, and rose to accompany her back to the others. Ophi and Armand reappeared, though they lingered on the fringe of the forest in silence. Armand stared at her as though he expected her to join them. She ignored him, moving to greet Cassia's companion.
“So is this the other Seer from the dungeons?” The companion asked before Kanika could speak.
“I am,” Kanika replied. Meto seethed from his rock seat. They had always been enemies, she rationalised. Now they had no need to hide it. “I'm Kanika. Are we waiting on anyone else, or can we get the hells away from here now?”
“Saffron,” She extended her hand in greeting. “And this royal cur needs no introduction, at least not with you.”
Kanika didn't like the way Saffron watched her as she indicated Meto, but followed her gesture anyway. She glared at Meto, making it clear that he would find no quarter from her.
“We are already acquainted, unfortunately,” Kanika confirmed.
Saffron and Cassia exchanged a smirk.
“I will journey to the north-east and reach Anukthar within six weeks, even with my hostage,” Saffron explained. “I am eager to return to my homeland. My family has need of me, and I have completed my apprenticeship here. I will be blooded as an Acolyte on my return.”
Kanika thought for a minute, then nodded. She had heard that the Seer Queen waited in the forests at the foot of the Ananuk Ranges.
“I, too, will be blooded when I return to Anukthar. But I am in no hurry. The South Seer has summoned me.” She and Saffron exchanged a look. “We agree that Aldert must accompany Saffron and the spoiled princeling. So, which will it be, Kanika?”
