Chapter 12

Zaidna

The Empire of Chalei

The Jungles

Sorai awoke to the sound of low whispers, which mixed harshly with the more distant thrum of insects. The air was thick and moist in her nostrils. She gingerly opened her eyes to see massive trees looming over her in the dark sky. She was far from the palace gardens.

Her mind began to twist and strain, fighting to make sense of how she might have ended up in this strange place with such strange sounds. She tried to lift her fists to her pounding skull but found her wrists bound. What happened? She knew she had been chasing Rao. Hands had been around her throat—or maybe that was later. There was a man—some intruder in the palace complex. Then Tashau was there. There were flashes of him being struck—a knife thrown at him. “Tashau,” she groaned.

A rough hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder and rolled her to her back. An eshtan with dark hair stared down at her, the disdain in his garnet-colored eyes reflecting the light of the nearby campfire. “Look, Davim, the star empress finally wakes,” he sneered. “I still can’t believe he took her.” He tilted his head. “You know, she’s really not bad in the firelight.”

Sorai whimpered, too frightened to scream. There was something odd about this eshtan’s features—something about the shape of his eyes and the height of his cheekbones that seemed foreign. And his accent didn’t sound like any she had ever heard before.

“Eh, I’ve had prettier.” Another eshtan’s face filled her view. A man—presumably Davim—appraised her with pursed lips. “I used to have a slave who had twice the beauty of this one. Then you let Anoth kill her.” Sorai flinched at the name Anoth. Who would dare speak that name outside of temples and libraries? Maybe she had simply misheard him.

The garnet-eyed eshtan ignored the jab and knelt down to get a closer look at Sorai’s face. “Her skin looks nice and soft.”

“Not bad,” Davim agreed grudgingly. “But you better not mess with her, Zalas. He’ll be back any minute.”

Zalas smirked. As if to prove his bravery, he reached out and began to prod Sorai’s face with a filthy finger, the sleeve of his dark, muddy caftan brushing against her ear uncomfortably. “It feels as nice as it looks. Perhaps we should enslave more highborn nobles like this one.”

“Bed slaves are illegal now, remember?” muttered Davim. “All thanks to you.”

“That was Verahi’s doing, not mine,” Zalas retorted. “But his laws don’t apply to us here; if you’re quick, you could have your way with this one before he returns.”

Sorai began breathing fast and hard amidst their laughter, summoning and letting loose a piercing shriek. Zalas immediately withdrew his hand and stood up as leaves began to rustle from outside of the clearing. She watched as Davim rushed to sit down behind the fire, and Zalas simply backed away, settling on a plump tree root.

A third man entered the clearing. “I see she’s finally awake,” he remarked, sounding pleased. Sorai couldn’t make out his face, even as he turned to place a round object into a rucksack on the other side of the campfire.

“What did Verahi think of your little side trip?” Zalas asked pertly.

“That is none of your concern,” the third man answered.

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have left us in Judath. We would have fit in just fine with the locals, and their food is far better than these rations. And now that you’ve kidnapped an empress, what do you expect us to do with her? Shouldn’t Verahi’s new laws apply to you most of all?”

The third man ignored Zalas and moved to kneel beside Sorai. His face was vaguely familiar, as was the bandana tied around his forehead.

“I’ve seen you before,” she mumbled uncertainly.

“It’s heartening to hear you say that,” the man remarked. “You must be quite disoriented after that pattern I used on you. I trust that your slumber was refreshing at least? You do look lovely when you sleep.”

Sorai’s eyes widened as she suddenly remembered the man in the garden, the same man who—

“And what else did the great Verahi have to say?” Zalas asked. “Will you really face no consequence for killing the star emperor or stealing his wife?”

Sorai’s mouth opened in stunned silence. This was the same man! There had been a fight! But Tashau—no!

The stranger tugged gently on the ropes binding Sorai’s hands and feet. “Verahi is not entirely pleased. However, with the death of the emperor, Chalei’s kada is no longer a threat.”

Tears flowed steadily down Sorai’s cheeks as the memories of that evening finally returned to her in full. Tashau had tried to save her—tried to fight off this madman. But he had fallen, stabbed viciously and repeatedly by this fiend. “Tashau! Tashau!” she began to wail, thrashing in both misery and terror, but she was silenced by the stranger’s palm against her mouth, the stench of Tashau’s blood flooding her nostrils.

“Maybe you should gag her,” Davim suggested. “And are you sure those ropes are enough to stop her from attacking us?”

“Maybe I should gag you,” the stranger snapped. “The ropes are just to keep her from running. Besides, even if she weren’t bound she’s only a daughter of the first house, so poses no threat. She is simply upset and in shock.”

Sorai’s instincts in the palace gardens had been to flee from this man. Now she wished she had. The part of his face that was still illuminated by the fire was not distinctly eshtan, but it was not dalanai or engstaxi either. His earlobes were too small—practically deformed. And was that a thin layer of stubbly hair lining his jaw? How was that possible? Just what kind of freak was he? Was he part beast? That must’ve been it. He had to be some abomination that was created when his unfortunate eshtan or dalanai mother was raped by a padu.

“I have waited years for this,” the stranger said, drawing closer and lifting his hands toward her face. “It has been agonizing to just watch you from afar for so long when all I’ve wanted is to touch you—speak to you. From the moment I first saw you I felt a bond between us. Surely, now that we’re together you must feel it too.” The stranger gazed at her imploringly.

“Get away from me!” Sorai screamed. She pushed away his searching fingers with her bound hands. “You killed my husband!”

“Oh, let’s not be childish. It’s for the better that he’s gone. He was a fop and entirely unworthy of you. You’re mine now, as it was always meant to be.” He suddenly pulled the bandana from his forehead in a grand gesture. “Look at me,” he commanded somberly. “Surely you know me now.”

Sorai stared. That trio of blue dots on his forehead was very familiar, but not a crest from any noble family that she knew. Was it eshtan?

Noticing Sorai’s perplexed expression, Zalas sighed. “It’s obvious she has no idea who you are.”

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The stranger didn’t respond, and instead leaned closer to Sorai until they were almost nose to nose. “Look harder. You must know me.”

“Get away!” she shouted, lashing out at him, intent on scratching his ugly face into ruin, but her wrists were still bound in front of her, and he dodged the attack easily. As he drew back slightly, she began to tear at her binds with her teeth, ignoring the pain as she cut her gums on the rope.

“Did you honestly believe that she’d act any differently than the rest of our slaves?” Zalas demanded. “She’s a Naltite!”

“Although, the feisty ones were more fun to break,” Davim chimed in.

“Enough!” the stranger snarled, and the two eshtans fell silent. He reached down to pull Sorai up by her shoulders, sitting her up gently. “You . . . are so exquisite, Sorai,” he murmured. “You have always been so beautiful, but to have you here in front of me now . . . . Your voice, your smell—you are perfect. I just need you to stop denying who I am and accept your feelings.”

Sorai jerked away as he tried to caress her cheek.

“I know you have been unhappy. I should have rescued you the first night I saw you, as you wept in the gardens over your impending sham of a marriage. You were so sad, so despairing. I nearly took you away, but I hesitated, and you were forced to endure a loveless marriage, the loss of a child. I could have made you happy. I still can.”

“You’re sick!” Sorai shouted. “I don’t know why you’re saying these awful things but I don’t want anything to do with you!”

The man lashed out and grabbed the collar of her robe, pulling her close. “Stop rejecting me,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

Sorai shut her eyes and trembled uncontrollably.

He released her and chuckled, before sliding his hand up her neck. “I know you know my name now. Just say it.”

A sob bubbled from Sorai’s lips. “I don’t know your name!”

“Now you’re just being demure,” he said. “I am Anoth, the first son of the first son of Atal.”

Sorai stopped crying just long enough to scoff. “Anoth? You can’t—you can’t name yourself after a god!”

“But I am that god,” Anoth averred solemnly. “You should have recognized my obvious divinity the moment you first saw me.”

What kind of heresy was this? This man was claiming himself to be the Dread God? Pure insanity! “The Dread God is dead. You can’t be him. You’re a monster—a blasphemer!” Sorai looked wildly over to Zalas and Davim, who simply shrugged half-heartedly.

Anoth threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, now I see! Your little Nassés may have filled your pretty head with lies about my death your entire life, but you’re under no obligation to believe them now. You can feel free to accept me without fear of punishment.”

“Stop it! The goddess Naltena killed Anoth!”

Anoth’s expression shifted from amusement to annoyance. “Oh, Naltena traveled through the parting to take my freedom, but she paid for that trespass with her life.”

“The goddess can’t be killed!” Sorai shouted.

Anoth moved to grip her chin. “You mortals are silly. You believe every lie Naltena has ever told you, even when the truth is right in front of you. But no matter; there is plenty of time for you to learn.” His fingers shifted as if to grip her neck, but instead of strangling her, he pulled her close and pressed his lips against her own.

A high-pitched wail erupted from her nose as she clawed at him with her bound hands in vain. When he attempted to deepen the kiss, she bit down on his lip as hard as she could. He snarled in pain and released her, but not before she had a taste of his coppery blood. “Don’t touch me!” she sobbed hysterically.

Anoth maintained his grip on her arm, raising his other hand to cover his bleeding lip. He looked off into the distance with what almost seemed like sadness in his eyes. “You truly do not know me? You have my love, and yet you treat me like I’m a stranger. Do you not want me?”

“You’re insane!” Sorai hissed. “Let me go!”

“She clearly has no interest in you,” Zalas suddenly snapped. “Let’s just get rid of her and get back to the mission!”

“Shut up!” Anoth seethed in a feral rage. He drew in a sharp breath before seeming to calm, but when he looked back at Sorai, there was only a steady fury burning in his eyes. “Fine. So be it. I would have preferred to spend this time catching up, but it’s best to just get on with it. If you insist on being stubborn, I won’t wait until you’re safely home in Yalet. I will prove to you who I am this very night. You won’t think to reject me again once I’ve turned you into a hadir.”

“W-what?” Sorai turned to Zalas and Davim again. “Help me!” she pleaded.

Zalas looked down, avoiding eye contact. “You shouldn’t do this,” he muttered loudly. “She’ll only hold us back as she recovers, and we can’t travel with an untrained hadir. She’d likely kill us by accident.”

“Let me worry about that.” Anoth scooped Sorai up and stormed out of the camp, carrying her into the heavy underbrush of the jungle.

They passed under thick, drooping vines and through the hollows of trees, and Sorai braced herself, pleading with him all the while, as her body jostled against branches and sharp leaves. She had always considered the jungles of Chalei to be part of her home, but here there were no rope bridges overhead, no outposts filled with wardens to protect against the dangers on the jungle floor. There was nothing to save her from whatever it was he planned to do with her.

Finally, they reached another clearing, smaller than the one they had left. “You must forgive me for the lack of romance,” Anoth muttered as he knelt and rolled Sorai onto a bed of rotting vegetation. “We don’t have much time before I need to counsel again with my master.” He withdrew the curved dagger she had seen earlier from his belt. He slid the flat of the blade against her cheek in a show of twisted affection. “Besides, I’m sure your wardens will have sent out search parties by now, so we can’t stay here too long.”

“Please don’t kill me!” Sorai squirmed only slightly.

Anoth smiled unwaveringly. “I’m going to make you my wife. I would never hurt you needlessly.” The cold steel of the dagger ran down the length of her neck to her clavicle. With a single, sudden stroke, he sliced the shift she wore beneath her belted robe clean open.

“No!” Sorai screamed, covering herself as best she could with her arms. “Please, don’t!”

“Your modesty is totally unnecessary,” Anoth said with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t even count the number of times I’ve watched you bathe.” Sorai opened her mouth to protest further, but he silenced her by placing a finger to her lips. “It’s best that you don’t scream. This will hurt quite a bit, but any struggle will only make it worse.” He took the dagger and pressed the tip of its blade against her chest. Sorai froze, paralyzed by fear. “That’s a good girl. This will make things so much easier.”

Sorai shut her eyes tight. Images of her family filled her mind. Faro toddling around the palace grounds, Tashau laughing as their little one tripped over his own tail. What would become of Faro? He had already lost one parent in Tashau; could he cope with losing both? He had relatives to care for him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him growing up without either of the two people who loved him most.

“Now,” Anoth commented clinically as he climbed to sit on top of her, pinning her bound hands to one side beneath his heavy thigh. “I always begin with the heart glyph. It’s quite large and complex but is central to the overall pattern.”

Sorai had no time to prepare herself before the blade bit into her skin. The first incision was slow and measured, drawn expertly down the center of her ribs. The next diagonal slices were quicker but no less sure. The stinging sensations in her skin combined into a persistent, throbbing pain. As he began to score her flesh in earnest, she felt blood pouring down the sides of her body. He meant for her to bleed to death! Overwhelming panic seized her and threw her into terrified convulsions.

Anoth withdrew the dagger and wrapped a hand around her throat, immediately stopping her thrashings. “This glyph must be precise, with each stroke made in the proper order and carved to the appropriate length. Anything less would kill you once I pour refined matter into it. Hold still!”

Sorai tried to scream, but Anoth increased the pressure of his grip around her neck until her body stopped responding to her commands and she fell limp. He loosened his fingers just enough for her to draw in shallow, spasmodic breaths, then resumed carving his work. Her consciousness floated in and out as her breathing slowed. Through half lids, she watched him finish the glyph on her chest and move down to her stomach. The pain was unceasing, but she couldn’t even wince as he proceeded to slice into her navel.

After some time, she vaguely sensed her hands being cut free from the ropes binding them, as well as Anoth shredding the rest of her clothing from her body before slicing into her limbs. There, he cut into every inch of skin, sometimes with large motions, sometimes with intricate precision. Even as he rolled her onto her belly to give him access to her back, she noticed with some macabre amusement that the pain no longer multiplied with every stroke, and instead just throbbed with her slowing heartbeat.

Just as she was about to lose consciousness, Anoth grabbed her shoulders and rolled her to her back, unceremoniously wiping the mud and dead leaves from her seeping wounds with both hands. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it? This is perhaps my finest work,” he admired proudly. “It will look even better once the refined matter is coursing through the glyphs.”

“Please just kill me!” Sorai rasped, her mouth dry and tear ducts spent.

“Oh, it’ll soon be too late for that,” Anoth muttered, slicing into his palm with his dagger and holding his dripping fist over the heart glyph. “Once I’ve finished the binding process, death will never have you.” She felt the fingers of his free hand, burning hot to the touch, press against her temple. “This is going to hurt much worse, so I think it’s time for a little nap now. When you wake, I have no doubt that you will appreciate this gift and accept me as divine.”