Ididirchi looked out from his throne of steel, eyes briefly meeting Siqxhe’s before they gravitated to the rain as it poured down outside of the windows. It had been a day, but still the storm raged, powerful deluges spaced intermittently with periods of light precipitation.
For the first time since entering the shadow of god, he couldn’t see those shattering specks of orange, couldn’t see the quiet darkness that reigned over the entirety of all places. This far up above the ground the rain washed out everything, leaving them adrift in a sea of nothingness. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was somewhere else- somewhere that wasn’t in this fortress waiting for a massacre.
Somewhere like the all too far away Nolabo. Soft lands that felt closer to a memory than they were to reality… but he was stuck here, with a moral dilemma, his life for the life of many. Despite his best intentions, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it…
“Siqxhe.” Ididirchi’s voice grasped him with its strength and drew him into the present, forcing him to confront that throne of jagged steel and those eyes that were so hard. Eyes that were ready- dreaded eyes, human but stronger by far than the brightness of Iri. Stronger by far than anything other except those orange immensities… “You were able to wake Iri?”
“I was… but I don’t think she’s ready. She’s not very… strong.”
Ididrchi frowned, and behind that frown Siqxhe could see an anger. A desire- a need for revenge. He had a target and he wouldn’t let that target go free. “I thought you said she was strong enough to grasp you and prevent you from breaking free?”
“Physically strong, maybe… but she can’t do much. Her mind is in a poor state, and she can barely stay lucid for more than an hour at a time. Either way, it’s a moot point, because she can’t walk.” He paused. Here was the time, the moment in which- all eyes on him, listening, an audience before the lord of Laytaihishu. He could… but then he imagined himself, hanging from a balcony, dead, and shuddered. “My lord… she needs more time, or else we’ll just lose her as well.”
Deep within himself, though, Siqxhe knew that he was the one that needed more time. Telling Ididirchi he was wrong without proof was certain death. Even Railoxhe, the most powerful person in the fortress beside Ididirchi himself, spoke carefully around him…
“Everybody. All my servants beneath the sky and beneath god, everyone who hears my words.” A few people perked up, mostly the servants and the guards along the walls. Something was happening. Siqxhe just felt sick- he couldn’t. He couldn’t… he wanted to protect the people, could see them in the darkness, the dying and the dead as they begged- “Three days. Three days until the Ilyaochi face my wrath to the fullest extent of possibility.”
………
They walked together- Railoxhe with his strong, if short gait, and Siqxhe, marveling at how incredibly powerful he was despite his age. In the bright hallway light, his graying hair was made clearly apparent, an indicator to both wisdom and a decline in physical ability… Siqxhe was sure, however, that if Railoxhe visited Nolabo the doctors of the university would have a lot to talk about when it came to detriments of age…
They didn’t talk until the two doors were well out of sight- until they were completely sure they were out of the hearing range of Ididirchi. It wasn’t that they were discussing anything treacherous- just that… Ididirchi was grieving. Siqxhe knew from long experience tending grieving noblemen and high clergy that it made you do strange things.
“Three days.” Railoxhe shook his head, and in that gesture was carried all the incredulity, the hope and the sadness that had flashed across his face in the moment of the announcement. “Ididirchi has given us three days, even after you said you needed more time.” It wasn’t just him that needed more time. Iri. Railoxhe. The men of the village so far below.
“He thirsts for it. Like a man demanding a duel, he wants the blood of his enemies and nothing will stand between him and his quarry.” Except he wasn’t a petty clergyman demanding a duel with a rival- he was a high lord of the Sakaxhy Empire, and the duel he pushed toward at great speed wasn’t a duel for the blood of honor, but rather a confrontation of armies. There was danger here, a deadly sort of danger that carried with it the possibility of more just an unraveling of society here- “How will the other Ilyaochi react.”
“I’m not honestly sure.” Railoxhe paused- “The highlands Ilyaochi, the true Ilyaochi that remain in the mountains after all this time and adhere to the words of the Brother… they have a thoroughly unique type of culture. Even the Ilyaochi of this village are almost Sakaxhy. Those of the peaks are strange- they might have had Ididirchi for this. They might love him.” He sighed, motioning for them to step out of the main corridor and into a more secluded, private room. It was a little place for a nice audience, complete with a wooden table and a cabinet filled with fine dining-ware that had probably never seen use. A fine layer of dust covered the whole chamber, broken only by the footprints of the lamp-fillers.
Siqxhe pulled out a chair, brushing off the dust and sitting down with a sigh. The meeting with Ididirchi had wrought a lot out of him, far more than any other meeting with the lord ever had. He knew he’d made the wrong decision, knew it despite all of his justifications, but… he wouldn’t sacrifice himself. He couldn’t. “They’d dislike him at least, though. He’s slaughtering their countrymen.”
Railoxhe snorted softly. Sadly almost… “You’re making the same mistake the lords in Ilaial make. They assume that, in this age of empires, the Ilyaochi are a single, unified people. They’re not- some will applaud and stand back and wish him luck. By necessity the Ilyaochi have become more unified, but they’re not unified.”
“Then…” Now, he told himself, but even here he could see the connection to Ididirchi’s wrath. Even here he could envision himself hanging from the highest tower of Laytaihishu, rope around his neck. Say it, he begged himself, begged the darkness- but he refused. “The Ilyaochi are in a dangerous position.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Rebellion was inevitable. It’s happened once before, when the old lord Sagotsyao assumed control of a dying town, ordered the Ilyaochi to stay, and forced them to work the mines… It wasn't that long ago. I remember it.”
Siqxhe blinked at that- he’d forgotten how recent some of these things had happened. God had come over these forests, these towering mountains not too long ago. “Do you remember the arrival of god, then?”
Slowly, Railoxhe nodded. “It was one of the dark points in my life. I was outside, playing with friends long dead, and I saw it. An immense silver, floating over time and nothing more than the evil gaze of its eyes. I asked my father what it was, and he said death…” Railoxhe shivered, and Siqxhe didn’t press him. It clearly wasn’t a good memory… “Laeo brought up a good point, Siqxhe. I don’t want it either, but I fear this will end in a confrontation.”
The terrifying part was, to Siqxhe- he could stop it, or at least delay it with the price of a little blood. He was a single man between the Ilyaochi and the immensity of Ididirchi’s wrath, but he was a single man beneath the immensity of God.
He was afraid…
………..
Siqxhe sat against a cabinet filled with every sort of medical tool, exhausted. He hadn’t even needed to open it more than a few times during his early ministrations of Iri… most of it was medicine and means to deliver it, needles and blades and all sorts of sharp things that weren’t very useful on a creature he couldn’t get inside of. All the tools he’d needed or even used were spread out over the top of the cabinet in a sort of organized cluster, and he was procrastinating.
Still, as his eyes met Iri’s, he found himself unable to think about the possibilities of what could have been. She sat, still- looking at him with an almost curious glare. Siqxhe supposed she recognised this wasn’t what normally happened when he entered the room.
“Why are you tired? It is long- but I remember humans. They would be tired like that.” It was almost peculiar, the way Iri spoke the words. A sort of whisper, soft way- the way of air across high crags, the breeze on the seashore where there was nothing but sand for miles, ocean in front, forest behind.
Quietly, he stood, ambling over to his chair beside Iri. “It’s what you told me… I don’t want to think about it.” Desperately he searched for some other topic of conversation, something else that would keep himself away from the prying of those cold eyes, those watching eyes… “What is Polarity Light?”
Iri hissed. It was a weird sound, sudden and almost too quiet to hear, a continuing whisper that spoke of pain. Siqxhe reached out to comfort her, but she grasped his hand, fingers of metal as warm as the room, but cold as light- “It’s… I’m ok. I feel them, beyond myself, but it’s dull. Receding, as long as I have something else to focus on. Such power… they want it.”
“Polarity Light?”
Iri laughed, this time a sharp, almost painful sound. “I’m being… hunted. He comes, the Lord of Cold Places.” Iri shivered, a strange quiver that ran down her facets and set light glittering around the room. “I’m being followed, and they always remain, watching from above.”
“I-” The door creaked open, admitting Laeo into the room. He looked tired- dark bags lay under his eyes, and he blinked as he entered the dim room. Still, his movements were as purposeful as ever, filled with the same intensity that Siqxhe had started to expect from him. “Are you well?”
“Fine. It’s a tinderbox, out there.” Above them, thunder boomed, a crashing sound that echoed the mood within the castle well enough. Laeo yawned, ironically settling down into the same position Siqxhe had been sitting just minutes before. “Ididirchi will not be deterred from his justice.”
“I…” Tell him. The thought thundered in his head, an immense roar that demanded. For the darkness. For the dead and dying and the whole of the world which was dying, just slower- for all that he was and wanted to be. Laeo wouldn’t take his words to the lord of Laytaihishu… Siqxhe quickly glanced around, making sure that nobody was listening. “I don’t think the Ilyaochi man is the actual murderer.”
Laeo’s glare was suddenly piercing, a blade that could cut through even Iri’s steel, and when he spoke his words were slow. Moderated. “And what makes you think that?”
Siqxhe flushed with embarrassment. “Nothing, really… just a hunch.” He cursed himself internally for speaking, but he felt better. Even if Laeo hadn’t supported Iri’s suspicions, at the very least he’d told someone… Still, there was that nagging feeling. Not enough. It’s not enough- Like the darkness, it couldn’t be denied.
Thunder boomed. If he listened closely, even this deep beneath the palace he could hear the thrum of rain as it crashed against the walls and the stone and the very being of the fortress, the soul of where so many lived.
The heart of Ididirchi’s power, the warlord’s seat. Laeo looked away from Siqxhe, an almost regretful cast to his eyes. “This place is interesting. I’ve enjoyed watching…” He glimpsed back quick enough to catch Siqxhe’s frown, and chuckled. “Just be prepared to leave, Siqxhe. Be prepared for anything…” Then he stood, walking out of the door. The second time in that many days he’d stopped by to visit…
Then again, he was tired. They all were, there were so few friendly faces in the fortress. This cold place, despite its hearths and its lusciousness, there were no acquaintances or people he could trust, nobody beside Laeo. Siqxhe couldn’t blame him for coming over every now and again. He turned back away from the door, back to Iri and her brilliant, little sparks beneath the surface of lakes… “Anyways. You were saying about-”
“You told him… you told him and he said no.” Iri seemed genuinely confused at that, as if she didn’t realize that by and far the evidence pointed toward the conclusions they’d drawn. It was obvious… she was still a bit mad, after all- it was possible she was drawing false conclusions.
Still, there was that nagging feeling that said not enough-
Iri sat still, just… quiet. She responded to his questions when he asked them, but they were faint responses, lacking effort… her mind was elsewhere and in all honesty so was his. He was thinking about death, coming- the darkness beneath the earth. The darkness, twinned beneath the sky. The darkness of storms, rolling thunder, cannonfire…
The bright of eyes, shining, a gleam beneath the silence that promised… nothing, but also brought nothing, pain. He was tired, so tired… It was warm here, and he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to his room and leave Iri in the dark, alone with the nightmares…
He found himself falling asleep in his chair to Iri’s gentle touch and the fine whisper of her voice, stories of boundless skies and dreams of darkness.