Amarah, page 52
part #3 of World of Linaria Series
‘It’s a little sky pirate trick. We use ‘em to hide things.’ It was the quickest, simplest explanation she could give.
‘And we are now flying to Estoria?’
‘It’s outside Sapora’s rule. Safest place anywhere near.’
Palom seemed to ponder over her words for a while. He briefly glanced to Isa before saying, ‘I want to kill Sapora. And Tacio. For...for what they did...to…’ His voice cracked. ‘...Lathri.’
‘So do I,’ Isa said, her voice hard. ‘Tacio was the one who tortured people. Sapora didn’t much care.’
Palom glared at her. ‘Sapora permitted it. Sapora let torture happen. Sapora released Mateli. They are both emonos.’
‘I do question the safety of Estoria,’ Isa said. ‘Sapora may not be able to send any of the Imperial Guard there, but there’s nothing to stop him butting a bounty on our heads. Hiding among the most gold-hungry people in Linaria doesn’t seem wise.’
‘You got a better idea, you let me know.’ Amarah shrugged. With the Arks released, nowhere in Linaria would be truly safe. Better they keep moving. ‘We probably won’t be in Estoria too long. I’ll stay until Kohl gets back, anyway.’
Palom huffed at the mention of the Arillian.
Amarah cackled. ‘Just like old times, isn’t it? All of us getting back together. You and me and Kohl. We just need Morgen, now.’ She’d last seen him in the far reaches of Corhaven. Funnily enough near where Sapora had just ran off to.
She hoped Morgen wasn’t anywhere near Povmar.
Amarah said, ‘In a way, Sapora’s hunt for the Arks is what brought us together again. Maybe they ain’t so bad after all.’
‘This is not a thing to joke about!’ Palom almost roared. ‘The Arks are very reason there is hatred and divide between Ittallan and Varkain.’
Amarah shook her head as her poor joke died. It was a feeble attempt at humour to cover up their pain and sadness.
She sighed. Isa was right. She had been lucky. She’d had to bet on Veynothi being so important to Sapora that he dropped everything to find her. She’d hoped he’d be so busy with the Arks that he’d forget about her.
Isa, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. She was his blood. Royalty. And had a claim to rule. Both Isa and Sapora were half-Varkain, half-Ittallan, but Isa had far more support from the Ittallan than Sapora did. She had no idea how he’d react to his sister on the run, and she didn’t much like the idea of Sapora bearing down on them with his Sevastos.
And then there was Aciel.
Even now, she remembered his voice commanding her. She was terrified that if she didn’t pay attention, some echo of his power would compel her to do something stupid. If she didn’t get herself incinerated by Sapora’s dragon, first.
For all her joking about, Amarah knew she had bigger things to worry about than a damned snake.
By mid-afternoon, fatigue had begun to set in. Amarah hadn’t slept in two days, if you didn’t count nearly dying, and had trouble keeping her eye open.
They’d travelled south, following the line of the Feor Mountains to stay well clear of Jato’s thunderstorm. Although it had meant smoother flying, it also meant longer flying. ‘There’s a little town down there. I reckon we land nearby and take a breather. Traeg’ll need to be caught up with everything, too.’
‘Makes sense. That town is Esta Cona. It’s one of the closest settlements to Estoria, actually.’ Isa peered over the side of Otella with the longscope. ‘Before you cross the sea, of course. But it’s all wetlands here so mind where you bring the ship down. You’re probably better off a few more leagues south. Then you won’t have loads of townspeople coming out to see what’s going on.’
Amarah followed the princess’s advice and landed on a gentle, grassy slope that led down to a shallow beach and the sea.
The other ships landed close by, and Amarah stretched her arms above her. Every muscle complained.
She watched as Judd brought Isa’s second ship to land on RaKhanna’s deck. It made sense. No point having every ship in the air, and Judd was more useful as a member of the crew when he navigated.
Leillu was the first to disembark, leaping into the air and spreading her wings to glide gently down. Palom followed after the young dragon, and then Isa and her Ittallan were quick to get down, several bringing wood and supplies with them.
Amarah hadn’t realised the amount they’d brought. She’d been face-down on the deck when everyone had embarked and spent the remainder of the flight glued to the wheel.
Solvi had wrapped Lathri in spare linens and blankets, and she and Palom gently carried her off.
Amarah frowned, but wasn’t sure of the best way to ask just what they were doing.
‘Palom wants her to be laid to rest in the mausoleum of South Galeo,’ Princess Isa said, as though reading her mind.
‘Why?’
‘Tradition. Anahrik and Eryn are there, too. It’s a prestigious resting place.’
But there was no way they could return to Taban Yul. Not now.
Another burial, then.
Amarah kept quiet as she watched them. For such a big man, Palom could be surprisingly gentle. He could easily carry Lathri alone, but he shared the task with his niece more than likely out of respect for her.
Tall storks with white feathers and long, red legs cawed loudly as they flew overhead, and all manner of insects chirped and buzzed near the abundant water. Small flocks of brightly coloured birds flew from trees and to the water nearby, their loud calls carrying for leagues. In a strange way, Amarah found it rather peaceful.
‘You know, I can’t say as I’ve been here before.’
‘There’s little here for anyone. Except fish, I suppose.’ Princess Isa hadn’t regained much emotion in her voice, and Amarah knew she had taken Lathri’s passing very hard.
By the time they had enough wood for several fires, it was beginning to grow dark. Amarah was more than happy to spend the night here and head to Estoria early the next morning. Now she’d been reunited with Traego and Princess Isa, she’d follow their lead.
She was looking forward to finally taking her first flight on RaKhanna, and the new future she’d forge for herself on it.
The Ittallan who followed Isa were close-knit and looked out for one another. They sat huddled together, spoke openly, and helped one another with their food and fires. Amarah knew it sounded silly, but somehow it felt better than those who followed Sapora. The Varkain in the throne room had been lifeless, almost. They reacted only when ordered and didn’t seem to have a single thought of their own.
And there was the Valendrin. That was a dark creature if ever she’d seen one.
Amarah sat down on the slope some distance to the right of the gathered people and watched them as they ate and talked. Princess Isa remained almost in the centre, with various Ittallan surrounding her, including Yfaila. They spoke at length and in detail about what had happened in the palace, the city, and how they’d all ended up here.
Palom remained alone, save Leillu, almost in the sea. He’d buried Lathri on the beach, gathered sticks and foliage, and lit them with dragonfire to mark her passing. He stood on the beach now, stoic as he faced the sea. The tide was coming in slowly, but still he didn’t move, even as the water lapped around his ankles.
Amarah knew he and Lathri had loved one another, and Palom was simply trying to make his peace with what had happened. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t sleep all night.
She scooped up a handful of sandy soil and let it fall through her fingers. Had Lathri not been so selfless, she wondered whether Palom would have buried her on the beach.
Traego made his way up the slope to where she sat, and Amarah didn’t make any attempt to move. She didn’t mind his company.
‘Why ya all by yaself up here?’ He sat down heavily and leaned on his knees.
‘I’ve been with too many people. Just wanted some quiet.’ It wasn’t a lie.
‘Want me ta go?’
Amarah shrugged. ‘Do what you want.’ Her scythe, slightly bent from the punishment she’d put it through in the palace, lay on the grass by her feet. ‘How’s my ship?’
Traego grinned broadly. ‘She’s a real beauty, that one. But ya never did tell me what ya called her. Venin didn’t know either. Don’t have no name painted on it.’
‘RaKhanna.’
Traego raised his eyebrows. ‘Look at ya! Never thought I’d hear o’ ya embracing ya Samolen heritage!’
Amarah shook her head. ‘The name fit. So why not?’
‘How much gold ya get?’ Business as usual with Traego.
‘Me? Nothing. I’ll bet Antar got a lot.’
‘Yeah. A full satchel. Crystal glasses and decanters, jewels, a tonne o’ coin that apparently was just lying there for the taking. In an open chest.’
Amarah laughed. ‘Happy with that?’
‘A few hundred crowns worth o’ gold and all my crew safe an’ sound? Course I am.’
‘Oris is coming along. Helped me get out the city.’
Traego scratched his nose. ‘Yeah. He said something about that.’
Amarah closed her eye. She didn’t want to talk to Traego about her near death experience. About how it was her fault Lathri had to be buried.
Traego seemed to sense her withdrawal, and he didn’t push the matter.
Amarah wondered whether Morgen still carried his Valta Forinja. Worried whether he’d suffered under the damned thing’s curse, too. Palom had dumped his somewhere, just like she had. Anahrik was dead. It just left Morgen’s short sword.
She’d need to talk to Palom about that. Or perhaps Topeko. The Samolen kept themselves out of conflict and fighting for good reason. She was sure many wars would end pretty quickly if everyone who fought with a weapon went mad.
They listened to the waves as they lapped the beach, and talk drifted up from the large, makeshift camp of mismatched Ittallan following their queen.
‘So, what happens now?’ Traego asked after several minutes.
Amarah shrugged. ‘Sapora brings back three of the Arks. Takes over the world. Kills whoever don’t bow to him.’
‘Just like at the ball, then.’
Amarah bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong.
From her time with Kylos, Isa, and the other Ittallan, she’d learned more than enough about the Arks for her liking. Five thousand years old Varkain weapons of war. If Traego had known what they were, he probably would never have gone on his stupid treasure hunt. Probably.
They were a bedtime story for Ittallan children—something to remind them to do as they were told or they’d be punished. For everyone else, they were a nightmare made real. A reminder of a time when the stakes were high and cities fell every day. When the daily battle against them was greater than both Arillian wars combined—in death toll and damage.
‘And now we have Sapora’s number one target in our midst,’ Traego said.
‘I hope you’re not thinking of handing her over to Sapora!’ His words shocked her.
‘Get paid for freeing her. Get paid for returning her. Win, win?’
Amarah faced him to check whether he was joking or serious. ‘Gold is great. But Sapora isn’t worth it. Neither’s Tacio. We’re gonna see the fall of a kingdom because of these Arks. Maybe the world, unless something happens to stop them.’
Traego nodded, smiling. ‘And who always comes up when there’s falling kingdoms and war?’
‘You do.’
‘I do.’ He laid back on his elbows and stared out to sea.
Amarah sighed heavily. Traego was always one to find opportunity in disaster and strife. She did, too, but never to the same extent. She’d lost an eye, gained a collection of scars, and almost died. Traego seemed to have put on weight and drunk too much rum. He was far too comfortable.
Right now, she didn’t know whether it would be safer to stay with Traego and Isa in Estoria, or make her way back towards Jato to get her revenge.
And that was to say nothing of her goal to free Moroda from the Sevastos’ crystal.
She shuddered as another memory of Aciel’s voice came, unbidden, to her mind.
Perhaps Aciel would somehow break out first. It would save her the job of finding out how to free Moroda.
They’d just barely managed to hold their own against him before. The thought of fighting him again—and winning—didn’t seem likely.
When Sapora returned to the palace with his Arks, Linaria would become a different place. Of that, she was certain.
She’d never really had much faith in Rhea before, but the Goddess had seen to it that she hadn’t died when she’d been supposed to. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to rid herself of the guilt she felt for living, especially not when she looked at Palom.
His grief was palpable.
Amarah didn’t know exactly what the future would bring. Dangerous powers, yes, from Arks to the Sevastos, Aciel’s will to wild dragons. And no matter how remote Estoria felt, one of those powers was bound to catch up with her before too long.
Her gut told her to keep moving, and to follow Isa.
There was no point running from everything—she wanted to stand and fight. She told people often enough to do it. She had to take her own advice, too.
If Isa could overthrow the snakes, then she’d do everything in her power to help.
And whatever the future held for her, Amarah knew that she was going to survive.
End
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L L McNeil, Amarah
