Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (20 page)

Domor’s head rang at the impact and he crumpled to his knees. He saw the end of the chain sli
p from Illraine’s hands as she windmilled
her arms to capture a balance too
far gone to be saved
. She spun as she fell, her feet entangled in Zalee’s. Domor heard Illraine scream. It filled the room for only an instant before it turned into a gurgled shriek, followed by a wet splash. He watched in horror as the forger tumbled into the trough, her head and right arm, to the shoulder, buried in the oozing green flow of pure magic.

Zalee scrambled to be away from Illraine as she thrashed inside the trough, spilling Ree’s essence over the edges.
Domor jumped to his feet, ignoring the thunder that threatened to split his skull, and ran to Illraine. One of her feet kicking at empty air as she tried to drop it back to the floor, he grabbed the one that sat solid on the ground and lifted with all his might. Illraine kicked
,
but it did her no good. Her weight distributed forward, she slid deeper into the green fluid, all of her leverage gone. She writhed and flailed about, but she could find no purchase to push her great bulk from within the magical essence. After a short
, violent
moment, she went still.

Domor stared at her through the distorted lens of the pure magic. She lay with her eyes and mouth wide open, horror written across her features. The skin at her cheeks seemed to bubble, squirming growths leaking from her ears. He turned away from the transformation and stepped over to the chains that held Zalee in place. Her hands free a moment later, he started at her feet.

“Do-do not feel…sorry for…her,” Zalee said, her voice a fluttering breeze with little substance.

Domor said nothing as he loosed
Sultae’s
feet. He reached down and scooped her into his arms, surprised by
how
much
she weighe
d. H
e could not carry her far. Near the doorway, he set her down in the place he had been bound until just moments before and collapsed to his knees before her.
His breath sat heavy in his lungs.
He felt her hand on his head.

“Feel no sorrow for what you have done, Velen,” she told him in a whisper. “It was wrong of us to ask that you fight our battle.”

Domor raised his eyes to hers. She worked at the chain links as she spoke.

“This war was started by Sha’ree ignorance, and by Sha’ree hands, and I fear it may well only end with Sha’ree deaths.” She slipped the chains
f
rom her wrists and started on Domor’s. “But not today.”

She pulled the links free of Domor and quickly freed her
ankles
. Zalee got to her feet and pulled Domor up alongside her.
She wrapped her arms about his waist and leaned into Domor’s side for support.

“Come. We must reach my people and warn them,” Zalee told him as she pressed for him to walk.

Together, they slipped from the room and out in to the corridor. Fear nagged at
Domor
as they began the slow walk through the stone-hewn passage. He had killed one of the Hespayr and there were miles of darkened caverns to traverse before they reached the bleak surface.
He
cast a quick glance behind him, believing they had done nothing to escape their deaths, only postpone them.
The shadows closed
around them
.

Ellora crept closer to the princess, Thelis at her side. The celebration outside the walls continued but had begun to taper off. Ellora understood the cold reality of what the people of Lathah were
now
realizing. Their homes and shops were in shambles
,
and rubble and bodies lined the streets from the Ninth to the Crown. None had escaped the ruin that had befallen the city, and none could simply carry on as though nothing happened. They had lost loved ones and neighbors, everything they knew, and there was no certainty
left in anything that remained
. The people could rebuild, but would it matter? The Grol could return any moment and destroy everyth
ing all over again. Yes, they’
d been freed from captivity but they were sti
ll held hostage by the unknown
. No matter what Olenn told the people, there was nothing he could say to relieve th
at
fear.

The guards surrounding the royal family shifted impatiently, keeping Malya out of sight of the people. No one had returned to the city so whatever the prince told them had worked
.
Ellora doubted it would last forever. People were curious and sentimental. They would defy the prince to return home if only to gather memories of what they had before the Grol came. She prayed some would do so now, but her words failed to reach the goddess’ ears.
Only the prince and a few of his men slipped through the hole in the wall, the people
remaining
outside.

She looked to the prince and saw he walked with a young man; tall and lean, his hair was a dirty blond and he walked with subdued resistance.
He looked familiar to Ellora but she couldn’t recall having met him before.

Olenn smiled. The prince’s hand was on the man’s shoulder and the grip looked tight.
Guards hovered close behind
, their shimmering swords in their hands.

“Well, well, well, sister, what a glorious day this is,” Olenn said as he approached.

Malya, who had stood
staring at the ground, raised her head and looked toward the prince. Her face was pulled back in a scowl as she met her brother’s stare. She
glanced toward
the young man with Olenn and the anger bled away in a wash of whiteness. Malya’s eyes went wide and her lips pursed. She seemed to jump, and then suddenly all trace of her reaction was cleansed away. Her expression was stone.

Olenn laughed. “The mask is beautifully done, Malya, but too slow to hide the truth.” He grinned wide and grabbed the young man’s chin, raising his face to the princess. “Quite the resemblance, is it not?”

Malya stared as though blind, saying nothing.

“No matter, siste
r, your reaction alone confirms
it for me.” He turned to his men. “Bind him, but be kind. This young man has just become the most valuable jewel in the whole of Lathah.” The guards grabbed the young man’s arms and began to tie them together.

The princess seemed to collapse. Falen leaned into her and the
guards
clasped her arms
to keep
her standing. Malya’s husband appeared distraught, Argos and Kylle near panic.

“What’s your name, boy?” the prince asked the young man.

He stood rigid, his face lined with confusion. “Camron, my
lord,” he answered. “I do not—”

Olenn waved him to silence. “
Your parents, boy, where are they?”

“Dead, sir. For many years now. I was raised on the Fifth, by the Lord and Lady Ellis.”

The prince turned his eyes to his sister. “Raised in the lower aristocracy. How clever of father, don’t you think?” He turned to the soldiers holding the young man. “Take him back to the rest of the men and keep an eye on him. Do not let him get away from you, but whatever you do, on your life, keep him safe.”

The guards nodded and dragged the young man back through the wall.
Ellora watched them leave and it struck her who the boy reminded her of.

“Handsome young man,” Olenn said to his sister after Camron was gone.

Falen looked to his wife and then to Olenn, a snarl on his bruised face. “What are you playing at, Olenn?”

“Nothing at all
.” The prince gave him a broad smile that conveyed no
warmth
, only malice. “I was simply noting how much young Camron looked like his father, but not very much like his mother
, I must say
.” He turned his smile on Malya. “It’s a shame, really. If the boy had, your lout of a husband might have caught on sooner.”

Falen growled at the prince. “Speak clear!” The guards clasped their hands on his arms.

“The boy is my son,” Malya’s quiet voice broke through the tension.

Falen spun on her, eyes narrow. “The exile is
his—”
he started
, catching on immediately
.

Malya’s nod silenced him.

Olenn stared at the couple a moment and then broke out into a fit of laughter. “How dramatic, sister. Your own husband didn’t know Arrin was the father of your first born child.”

Argos and Kylle stared at their mother, and she absently tussled their hair. Tears ran from her eyes without restraint.
“I believed I would never see either again,”
she said to no one.
Her voice was a gentle breeze.

Ellora watched as Falen absorbed the news. The boys seemed lost in their mother’s arms. The boy had been Arrin’s son, born of the princess. Ellora’s mind whirled with the surprise of it all. She had known nothing of such a relationship, and saw none of it as they fled Lathah. What she did know was that Olenn despised Arrin and wanted him captured or dead. It took no effort to realize what the prince intended to do with Camron, the son of his enemy.

A crunch of stone startled Ellora. She bit down on her scream and spun to see Mikil behind her. She rolled her eyes angrily at him, pinning her finger to her lips, and turned back to the royal family.

“Take them back to the tunnels and keep them out of sight,” Olenn said to his men. He winked at Malya. “Don’t worry, sister, I won’t hurt the child
…at least not until I have his father’s head on a pike.” He waved them away. The soldiers tugged the family away and marched them toward the Crown.
“
Gather all the men capable of fighting.
It seems our path leads to Ah Uto Ree.”

Ellora and her fellow orphans ducked lower in the debris as they passed. She peer
ed over the rubble to see Olenn’s back as he strode
once more outside the walls.

“Did you find more?” she asked
Mikil when the prince was gone
.

He
nodded, pointing off toward the far side of the Ninth where nearly a dozen furtive heads skulked in the wreckage. Mikil waved them over.

“Where’s Bran—”
she started to ask, but stopped when she saw Brandon
amongst the group of orphans Mikil had gathered. They closed the ground between
them
quickly. Each carried a number of weapons; some were makeshift clubs, while most
of the others were
daggers and short blades in various stages of repair. “They’re taking the princess to the tunnels at Crown, and we need to stop them.” She pointed off the direction the men took the family
, snatching a dagger from Brandon
.

Ellora waved at them to follow as she darted across the Ninth, dodging fallen stones and the pieces of corpses that littered the streets. The rest of the orphans stuck close behind. Little more than boys, none older than her own fifteen years, Ellora tried not to think of what might happen should they fail. All she knew was that Malya and her family needed to be free of Olenn if they were to live. For all the prince’s
supposed
mercy, Ellora understood there would be none should
he
succeed
in his plans
.

The desolate and silent land of the Tolen behind them, Arrin led his makeshift army through the sliver of Gurhtol that stood
between
them and the desert. His disgust grew as his boots collected the dust of the Grol homeland
,
and he longed to
wash
it from his heels
with their blood.

When at last t
he golden sands stretched out before him, Arrin
waved the travelers to a stop. He
glanced over his shoulders
a
s
the ranks behind him
shuffled to rest
. The Velen huddled together inside a circle of the Yviri. Their brown robes stood out from the pale skin of the warriors, clearly separating them from the masses. Arrin was glad to see each of them carrying a number of
small
packs and waterskins. So comfortable wearing the O’hra, which limited his need and desire for food and drink, he often forgot the needs of others.
The funeral Sands would be a test of their fortitude they had never
experienced
. Even Arrin was uncertain of what lay within the sandy wastela
nd. For all his travels, he
found no reason to risk the desert before now. He wished he had. Alone, he could easily have surveyed the path to the ancient mausoleum and plotted the safest course, but now he was reliant on a stranger.

He looked to Braelyn as she shifted uncomfortably on the sands ahead. She had proven herself competent with the O’hra and her own mystical weapons, but he worried about her commitment. There was nothing at stake for Braelyn in the journey ahead. Though they had come to an agreement to help her return home, he was certain she could manage that on her own, with far less difficulty than treading through a
desert
far
south of her true destination.