Ezekiel ran his hands through his slightly longer hair, shaking his head lightly at the scene. He gave him a brief questioning look, which Arakiel returned in an assured manner.
Outside, he heard heavy footsteps approaching.
Commendable, but too late.
Arakiel slowly let go of Aurora, indicating her that he needed to act now. She lowered her wings in dejection, but nodded in understanding.
He’d need to make it up to her in a very special way once this planeswalk was over.
Feeling it surprisingly easy to take heart, Arakiel turned his back onto the man under whose thumb he had acted for the past months, or whatever was left of him.
He was the first to leave the hall-turned-slaughterhouse and when the door swung open, around a dozen Mirror Guard were about to storm into the room, weapons drawn and directed quite openly at Arakiel and his party. He greeted the men with a confident look while Ezekiel and the two hooded seelie spread out behind him, building a barrier of sorts between the attackers and the two seraphim.
“What happened in there!?” One of the guardsmen demanded to know in a commandeering voice. This one’s polished helmet was a little more decorated… likely a captain of some type.
“A disagreement,” Arakiel returned ambiguously, adding in an authoritative manner. “The Executor Djinni orders all members of the Smokeless Host assemble right this instant – and find me Akili and Aisha.”
His eyes snapped to one of the Mirror Guards, barking. “You there, deliver this message at once!”
The guardsman snapped to attention and when he was about to run off, the captain intervened. “You’ve no power over us, Executor Djinni… and what were these sounds…” The captain shook his head, getting to the point immediately. “Screw that, move aside or you will be made to!”
“Your sultan is dead,” Arakiel returned calmly. “His leadership of the Smokeless Host has been found inadequate.”
Indignation and disbelief hushed across the Mirror Guards’ veiled faces and one of them rushed towards him, shouting. “Die, betrayer!”
His body kept moving for a few more steps after his head was severed clean, all his fancy armor proving utterly ineffective against the fae’s spell.
Once again, Arakiel hadn’t even seen the attack, but he just took it as is.
In the Eternal Cities, before he had become a Wanderer first and then a Traveler second, he had often seen the effect of things without being able to make out the reason – old knowledge coming back.
Accept and move on.
When the Mirror Guard’s body fell to the ground, the others recoiled and although they took up a battle stance, Arakiel could tell that they were afraid – and they should be.
“The south had its greatest victories against the Middle Kingdom under my command,” Arakiel laid out once more. He let his gaze wander across the hesitant guardsmen, ending on the captain. “I shall now deliver the deathblow. Whether you are part of it depends on one thing and one thing only: are you loyal to your people, or are you loyal to an impotent man?”
“We serve the Lord Djinn!” The Mirror Guard’s captain returned full of conviction and the others nodded in accordance while the grip around their weapons tightened.
“Then you should ask Akili or Aisha – they are Zimraan’s successors, are they not?”
“There are no succession laws,” the highest-ranking Mirror Guard stated, sounding uncertain.
“If you serve the Lord Djinn, then you serve his blood. Akili and Aisha were his trusted children – you serve them now,” Arakiel reasoned and explained. “Before I have to kill you – let us meet them and see whether their horizons are broader. I suspect they might just be. You are capable people, it’d be a waste to dispose of you over a mere misunderstanding.”
His attitude undoubtedly came across as overbearing, but it happened so naturally to him. Right now – by proxy – he held more or less unlimited power and he would be an absolute fool if he didn’t use it.
In a way, Nyanna let him do what he had hoped to achieve through Shemyaza’s solution. As soon as he realized what he had just thought, he chastised himself harshly.
The sultan’s elite guardians didn’t attack him and instead backed off, with the captain urging one of his men to fetch Lady Aisha and Lord Akili right this instant. The others were to ‘hold’ the ‘potential’ betrayers at bay and the man’s voice showed a kind of resignation that came from knowledge.
He was aware that if Arakiel gave the order, he would die without having any chance whatsoever.
A soft, whispered strand of melody hushed into his right ear, and only that.
“Yes… act upon it! Such sweet power, isn’t it?”
It was indeed sweet, almost intoxicating power that he felt right now.
Arakiel imagined that this was how the henchmen of old must’ve felt. The mortal enforcers that kept their fellow mortals subdued for their immortal masters. In the end, they all died alone – or so the tales claimed.
Most if not all immortals were unable to feel like mortals did. Their empathy differed on a fundamental level.
He recalled these words, these warnings to ground himself – and he would need to do so over and over again.
It wasn’t his power – and he could lose it at any moment… so he had to make use of it while it was still there.
With the impression made on Nyanna, he considered it imperative to use it before she lost interest.
The wardens of the palace returned not long afterwards, two jinnum hurrying along in tow. Arakiel recognized the siblings right away and felt a slight surge of pleasant familiarity arise inside him. In a way, he appreciated the two, had grown to sort of respect them when they fought side by side.
Ruby eyes, a beautiful, tanned countenance, scarlet clothes with golden flourishes. Akili with his white turban, Aisha with her gossamer net that wrapped around her hair. The brother’s staff, the sister’s twin scimitars… it was just like the last time he had seen them.
“Arakiel!” Akili exclaimed right away, his words having a familiar, friendly ring. He seemed pleasantly surprised despite the circumstances. He seemed yet unaware of what had transpired whereas his sister’s greeting came across as much more restrained, her eyes having darted past them.
The Mirror Guard parted somewhat, at which point both had to see the dead, beheaded man on the floor but if they did, they showed little reaction.
“It is good to see you Akili,” Arakiel returned with a smile, even going so far as to hold out his hand.
The male jinnum shooed the Mirror Guard aside and shook it, looking him over while giving precious little attention to the dead man. “You look awful, Lord Executor.” He noted as his gaze glanced past him. “Most of you do… whatever happened?”
“Many things did… too much to recount here,” Arakiel replied, taking a deep breath. After he exhaled, he got to the matter at hand because it was necessary.
“First of all, my condolences. Second, my congratulations and third… I hope you’ll understand.”
The jinnum’s expression darkened whereas his sister stated the facts.
“Father died… I can see – why?” Aisha queried, carrying herself surprisingly well. Her words held no denial.
Akili turned towards his sister and then to Arakiel. “Is it… true?”
The question was rhetorical, of course.
“It is. He antagonized me despite my accomplishments. There was no other way.” Arakiel affirmed quietly, having lied about the latter part. If there had been another way, Arakiel wouldn’t have taken it. The akh was far too dangerous and full of himself.
A complicated expression danced across Akili’s face. “Before we draw blades,” he began and his eyes briefly looked around until they rested on him once more. “Please elaborate on Aisha’s question.”
“Never mind him threatening to steal my Lady and take my life… I am shocked to find out that the Smokeless Host remains here – what have you been doing!?” Arakiel answered calmly before asking with some emphasis.
He could tell that Akili and Aisha, despite everything, seemed quite agitated about this particular question while all around, the Mirror Guard watched with bated breath. Even more so, there was no outright hostility by the siblings just yet.
From the side, he saw Ezekiel leaning onto his halberd with a more or less relaxed stance although his eyes followed the proceedings quite vigilantly.
“Father was afraid of his soldiers getting stuck in the snow,” Aisha commented somewhat resignedly, with Akili adding. “He focused on securing what we had already conquered – putting proper laws in place, getting the right people into the correct positions.”
“Foolish,” Arakiel judged right away, elaborating. “When your maneuver puts the opponent on the back foot, you lunge forth and assail, not back away to regain your own footing.”
He was certain that Ezekiel would find different scenarios in which this wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter to get his point across. “If it weren’t for me, then the Middle Kingdom would’ve most likely formed a countermeasure already.”
Akili’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?” He demanded to know.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Not only did my right hand strike down Queen Fodhla, we managed to uncover a connection between nearly all the rulers of the Middle Kingdom. We worked on severing it… and succeeded.”
“Speak plainly!” Aisha exclaimed in an irritated manner.
“The Middle Kingdom is without leaders. The dukes, the counts – everyone that had a connection to Queen Ceara or Queen Fodhla – they’re gone!” Arakiel stated gravely, causing not only the jinnum siblings, but the other Mirror Guard to back away just a little.
“Have you gone mad?” Aisha exclaimed, with Akili hinting at the other side of the coin. “Or do you speak the truth?”
“As I said to the other guards here, I intend to now deliver a deathblow to the Middle Kingdom. King Cahir is the sole survivor and once he falls, it’ll be easy to take over the entire realm.” Arakiel calmly laid out once more. “And I still consider the Smokeless Host as the best tool for this task. It’s all up to you, though – you’re in control with your father’s death.”
“You speak with such conviction, Arakiel. I want to believe you…” Akili responded quietly as his gaze looked over the dead man. “But you spilled so much jinnum blood. My brother, my father… this man here.”
“I merely defended myself,” Arakiel returned truthfully. “But if you wish to put your people’s future above the blood of three jinnum, so be it.”
Arakiel realized the immense hypocrisy in his words. If someone were to ask him to put Kalanaar before Aurora, Mellia or his family… he would say no every single time.
“Akili, wait!” Aisha intercepted, raising her hand. The woman’s red eyes focused Arakiel intensely. “Will you tell the maen that you killed their sultan?”
“As far as I know, King Cahir exploited the late sultan’s idleness,” Arakiel came up with on the spot, shrugging in an almost nonchalant manner. It didn’t matter to him.
“How dare you besmirch the Lord Djinn’s honor like this!” One of the Mirror Guard shouted and was about to charge when the captain barked him back in line.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I’ve seen how you operate, Lord Executor.” Aisha spoke up as she partially addressed the few people here. “We would be immense fools if we were to reject you now.”
She lightly cleared her throat. “Brother, would you please announce our decision? Sister Jenaya is unfit as a ruler and you are older than me, if only a little.”
In that moment, Arakiel knew he had won. Just like that.
A few words, a confident display, backed up by reputation and an imminent event.
The jinnum siblings took control of the situation, directing the Mirror Guard to remain quiet while others were to inform the Smokeless Host that the Lord Executor had returned and that it was time to bring the fight to the Middles once more. The soldiers and warriors were to gather in the central plaza of Maduts’ Crossing for a speech.
A little later, when everyone but the two had left, they relocated to another room where Aisha and Akili began to summarize the events since his absence and he could tell just from the way they spoke that they hadn’t been in agreement with many of the decisions that Sultan Zimraan had made, some of which had led to harsh resistance by the Middle citizens.
While the guidelines for the Smokeless Host had been one thing, the sultan’s second army had been much more vicious in their treatment, especially in Maduts’ Crossing which had been chosen as the winter camp. For several days, the streets had run red with blood and screams… which would certainly explain why the town’s atmosphere had been so quiet. Those still alive had been quickly broken.
Arakiel glossed over most of the other details, for he wasn’t interested in the administrative and logistical details and when the speakers of the other two southern cities eventually entered to demand answers, one of them lost his head while the other eagerly took on the dead man’s task as well in order to bolster his own reputation.
Arakiel didn’t care about internal politics at this point. It was something for his House to sort out later once they took over… there were specialists for this kind of work.
To him, all that mattered right now was that the second army, the so-called Mirrors’ Host, was different from the first and that it had seen precious little real combat thus far while having overall far superior training and equipment.
Just several hours after his arrival, he met with the commanders of both Hosts and discussed the way forward. These people didn’t yet know about the sultan’s demise, but it wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. Basam ibun Zaki claimed to have never doubted the Lord Executor and his right hand’s return, yet the competent soldier showed a lot of emotion despite being rather stoic all around.
Arakiel admittedly felt quite affected by the brief but genunine shows of emotion that some of his commanding staff offered him and whenever the new additions were speaking out of turn, he didn’t even need to raise his voice. His advisors, Basam and Shahar Aymin put them in place.
Come dusk, he and the others moved onto a small stage that had been built in one of the town’s squares and with the help of two Air Enchanters, his voice would be carried far.
As he stood there in front of a crowed of two different types of warriors that had gathered around, he felt vindicated, especially when the soldiers of the Smokeless Host had cheered as he stepped onto the stage.
The Lord Executor’s triumphant return – indeed.
It affected even some of the Mirrors’ Host and before he had even said a word, over a thousand people were cheering for him.
On the one hand, he felt honored – one the other, however, he felt content, because he had earned this. He called his former partner-in-crime upon the stage, hailing his as the Queenslayer, the one who had ended Queen Fodhla’s reign.
It was the truth, even if that queen had been but a small fragment, but the warriors didn’t need to know that.
Arakiel passionately recalled the Smokeless Hosts past achievements, the battles its fought and the spoils it had claimed – all leading up to the surrender of Scithatswood and Maduts’ Crossing, where the army’s mere reputation had been enough to force the Middles to their knees.
Each triumph was met with cheers and whenever Arakiel inquired if the soldiers wanted more, he was given a very clear message. The Smokeless Host had merely been hibernating – and it was quickly waking up once more.
In just under an hour, Arakiel had energized the Host, had spurred them into action; those who had already proven themselves sought to attain even more reputation whereas those whose weapons were still bloodless yearned to wet it crimson.
At that point, he revealed the demise of Sultan Zimraan, committed by an assassin sent by King Cahir. His speech praised the sultan on the one hand while using his idleness and complacency as a means to scratch his nimbus of awe.
It worked. The soldiers were out for blood, demanding vengeance.
Through his maneuvering, the Mirrors’ Host joined in and the two Hosts became one – the army of the Holy Transcended’s Chosen people, an army that would end the Middle Kingdom not for the sultan, not for Arakiel – but for their people, for those who had already died and those who might die in the upcoming battles.
To regain lost honor and dignity – that which the Middle Kingdom had taken away from them by seeking to starve them.
It was a grand show that he made and the more he got into it, the more ardently he spoke and when the Hosts’ fire had been ignited and flared, he announced his intention to lead them on the morrow.
The thundering applause and roars dwarfed any dissent that sole men might’ve put up.
When he left the stage a little later, he had become infected with the crowd’s adoration, had become drunk on the respect and approval.
It puzzled him, for maybe he wasn’t a lone wolf at all… had never been.
He just wanted to be the one at the top.
And right here, right now… he was – in a way.
Borrowed power was power still.
Later that night, when he and Aurora were once again just leaning against one another while staring out at the dark clouded sky, she quietly asked him if he felt better, if he felt content.
In that particular moment, he affirmed.
Following this, she went to sleep in his arms wihtout any further comment.
He followed soon after, even if it was a rather uncomfortable position.
When Arakiel woke up on the next morning, his aurea was missing.
He panicked at first, but quickly found her on the balcony of the temporary home they had moved in. Some former Middle noble’s house – nothing grand, just big enough for the seven of them.
To the east, the sun was about to rise.
She had gotten rid of her clothing – the outfit that the Sultan had made for her and only covered her front with a white wooly blanket while her entire backside was exposed.
While some would’ve been repulsed by the way her wings grew out from beneath her scapulae, he found it fascinating. Her milky white skin almost matched the fluff of her wings’s muscles… the tender curvature and the cute bottocks… Arakiel wanted to taste her again.
It had been so long.
He snuck up on her and surprised her with a kiss while one of his arms coiled around and right between her thighs, yet instead of the expected outrage or submission, he found nothing but dread.
Aurora perked up and froze, shock having fully taken hold of her.
When she noticed it was him, he could tell that she fought against her instincts to suppress the dread – but not only did he lose his mood right away, he felt terrible for being so insensitive.
He immediately offered her the cloak made out of thirteen layered sheets alongside a heartfelt apology, yet it only appeared to have made matters worse.
She took it, thanked him and then ran off, crying.
Arakiel hurried after her. He found her at the place where they had drifted off to sleep, where he then hugged her once more, pulling her close.
It lessened her fear, but it took too long for her to calm down. His presence was needed and although he initially protested, wanting to take her along, she once again told him to do what was necessary lest she feel even worse.
She would manage.
With a heavy heart, Arakiel went ahead and did just that.
A few hours later as if directed by a miracle of sorts, the Army of the Holy Transcended’s Chosen people set out north and then west right away – towards the Middle’s heartlands.
Over the next two weeks, precious little changed.
Aurora stuck to him like glue, yet he wasn’t allowed to touch her in any intimate spots lest she start to shiver and cry – and the worst part about it was that she didn’t want it… it was her instincts acting up.
It took a lot out of him for she was always close, physically so. He felt her, scented her… could practically taste her… yet he couldn’t indulge in her.
And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite keep himself under control. Occasionally, his hands ended up wandering to her breasts and a few times, he ended up kissing her out of habit. These times ended in disaster, worse every single time.
He could kiss her on the head, and that was it.
Selene and Ezekiel were much better off by comparison. In fact, he was almost certain that Alanna sometimes visited their tent at night, which he found incredibly suspicious but he wouldn’t pry. They had sworn to keep out of each other’s business, after all.
The more time went by, the less he actively realized Mellia’s absence. She had always been rather quiet and observative and since she was still there, wandering alongside the two seelie… it was all rather awkward. At least the immortals kept to themselves for the most part. Only rarely did the seelie tease him with a strand of whisper – and only if he did something she found noteworthy.
He perceived every single one as a taunt.
The army’s movement worked flawlessly, on the other hand. The snow began to recede as the temperatures began to notably improve and although the mud proved a bit of a challenge, it wasn’t enough to slow the army itself down too much.
In these two weeks, they moved well into the heartlands and if the overall reports remained true, they’d reach the Three Rivers Abound A Sea Of Gold at the end of the next week, but he found little joy in the news, just as he found little joy in the surroundings which could be summarized as… muddy fields, soggy meadows and leafless forests.
As far as he had been made aware, there wasn’t a single traveler on the road. In a few weeks time, there’d be plenty as spring rolled around. By that time, the Three Rivers would’ve fallen already.
Arakiel hated traveling.
On the Lightday of the 3rd Conflict, their target came in sight.