46
(3 Doors Down- It's Not My Time)
Brenden
It seemed so early for fall, but the brisk morning air bit the tip of my nose. Or maybe it was just the speed of the wagon that was making my face so cold. Regardless, the road was like a wind tunnel blowing directly at us, so the ride wasn't as enjoyable as I was hoping it would be. Having a free day, I took the wagon up to Count Jeun Wey’s towers to deliver the music tokens we promised Brina.
“So-” Miriel pulled her scarf down from face and pulled fuzz off her tongue. “Ahem, so how exactly does one create a sound token?” She held the palm-sized bronze bowl up to the sunlight and flipped it around, looking over every little marking etched into it. The wagon lurched when Vergil slowed his pace as a stray reflection shot in front of him.
I reached out to the token and guided it down into Miriel’s lap. “Careful, I think the reflection is startling the corties.”
“Oh, sorry. I hadn’t noticed.”
“S’all good. And to be honest, I’m not really sure how Desmond made them. He did some sigil work, we played our songs in front of them, and then he’d take ‘em away to finish ‘em. His sigils confuse the hell out of me, though mine are probably the same way to him.”
“You’ve said that word a few times… hell. What does that mean?”
“Hell? Oh, um, do you know how I was telling you about religion and God and stuff?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I told you about Heaven, the place people go when they die. There’s also a place called Hell. Another afterlife, but instead of being nice, it’s eternal torture and damnation. It’s where sinners supposedly go.”
“But wasn’t there that one fellow who died so everyone would be forgiven?”
“Uh, yeah. Hell’s for the people who do really bad things and don’t repent to God.”
“So if somebody worships another god, they are sent to hell?”
“I don’t think all of them do. I think there’s another place for non-believers who were good people or something.”
Miriel peered into the bowl as she thought. “That sounds awfully harsh. By that understanding, every person who has ever lived in this world, who could not possibly know of your religion, are all still condemned and denied entry to the nice place?”
“I’m gonna be real, I have no idea. I wasn’t really religious, I was too busy working to practice or go to Church. This is more of a topic for Tells or Desmond, honestly.” I bit my cheek, disappointed I couldn’t answer her question. “Speaking about religion and stuff, what do people believe here? Like, generally.”
“Hmm,” Miriel thought for a moment, then explained as dismissively as a scientist explaining flat earth theory, chuckling at the absurd details. “The common Triali belief system is a bit odd to me, but I’m sure you’ve already encountered pieces of it. I’m fairly sure the belief has been around as long as people have lived on this continent, and the jorlad followers have been quite brutal to ensure it is the primary system. These Trialis subscribe to the Divine Body. Essentially, there was a body which existed, somewhere out in the aether. The being, the Body, got so tired of being lonely, or something along those lines, that it tore itself apart, limb by limb, body part by body part. Each part gained a personality and lived happily. Then one day, each organ and limb slowly went insane from the maddeningly monotonous rhythm of the heart’s beating, so they killed it, and that is the soil, the ground we walk on. A still, dead heart. I want to say it’s still trying to beat and come back to life, or something of the sort, but it’s been quite a while since I engaged in discussion of the topic. I know there is a part in there about the head and the body warring with each other and the head using the mouth to turn the organs of the body against itself through speaking. I can’t remember it entirely.” She waved the thought away dismissively.
“What do you think about it?”
“I’m from outside of Triala, a town, a culture, which practices Zenstak. I’m technically not supposed to speak of it in Triala, but nobody is listening. We are all products of jzanmah. Our bodies are vessels for the jzanmah which inhabits us and gives us life. Trialis believe jzanmah is a byproduct of divinity, while to us, people and life are manifestations of jzanmah that exists outside of anything divine. There are people who have merged the beliefs, but they aren’t common.”
“So, what, like our lives are jzanmah? Or like, consciousness is jzanmah?”
“The mau were the ones who coined Zenstak, and they refer to the jzanmah that makes us up as the soul. The jzanmah which shapes us into being. It’s how regenerative jzanmah can rebuild the body of a human, but not a fireblood. It’s also why firebloods cannot use jzanmah, even the intelligent ones. That’s what Zenstak dictates, and I haven’t encountered anything that goes against it.”
“Wait, I thought firebloods couldn’t use jzanmah because they were stupid from being, like, undead.”
“They’re bodies without souls. Operating solely on the memories of the body and fireblood instincts. By Zenstak, one must have a soul to harness jzanmah. That being said, there’s no certainty why they reanimate, or what happened to their souls.”
“Okay, but what if a fireblood could use sigils, and talk and stuff, but it still needed to eat animals and stuff to survive?”
She gave me a bewildered look. “That would be horrifying. A soulless creature, mind you, creatures that lack jzanmah are incapable of worldly connection, emotion, empathy. If they aren’t animalistic, then they’re deceptive and self-centered. One that could use sigils into excess by killing people would commit atrocities.”
That’s not what I was hoping to hear.
“How do you know so much about firebloods? I thought that kind of knowledge wasn’t common around here.”
“I’m not from here, remember? I studied what my people know of firebloods after my sister was killed, which is mostly collected from the mau. We distance ourselves from the jorlad outside of our traveling years, as most other peoples do. It’s telling, really, that jorlad care so little for their own people that they’d leave to live among other species than fix their own homes. There’s likely some correlation in there as to why the jorlad become firebloods more often than any others. And it’s probably why the jorlad-founded Divine Body only cares about killing firebloods without explaining why they exist.” She paused. “What has you so interested in firebloods?”
“We caught one, back in Poikla. Used it to fix people who needed new limbs and organs.”
She slapped her lap excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to try that practice, but I haven’t a fireblood’s body nor the sigils necessary! Oh, I’m jealous of you. Was that at Poikla? I’ll go there just to copy the sigils.”
“Sounds like a trip we can take.”
Miriel smirked, batting her eyes back and forth. “It’s a date.”
The chilling wind nipped at my ears as we approached the towers in the distance. Clouds drifted over, ominously darkening the three spires ahead until not even a few moments later, the towers were back in the sun and sparkling.
I glanced over to see Miriel leaning on her hand, head sideways and peering at me. She spoke as soon as I made eye contact. “I enjoy talking with you.”
I felt heat rush to my face as soon as she said that, and my brain started going to mush again. “Oh- um- good. Uh, why?”
She squinted and pursed her lips to think. “Because of that ‘Why?’ Maybe it is simply the trait of a good conversationalist, but you have the curiosity to ask why.”
“Well, I am new here.”
“Perhaps you are, therefore I will help you become acquainted with this world. So let’s go to a lovely little bakery I frequent after this.” She leaned back smiling and sank into her scarf as we approached the gates of the towers.
“I like the sound of that.” I slowed the wagon to a halt before a silver-clad guard. The horned armor from last time was the same, except it was fur lined with a thick white cape. “Morning. I’m here to deliver two song tokens to Brina.”
I couldn’t see the guard’s face well through his helmet, but his tone was arhythmic, his blue eyes frightened. “I’ll take them to her. I thank you on her behalf. Good day.” He held out his hand for the tokens and I had to stop Miriel to keep her from handing them over.
“We’re still expecting payment from her.”
The guard anxiously stepped closer to the wagon, almost leaning on Miriel to speak with me. “I understand that, sir, and urge you to leave them with me. We will send payment to you promptly, but you must leave quickly.”
Something sketchy is going on with this guy, but he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to steal them. He seems almost worried.
“I’m sure Brina would be happy to pick them up herself.”
“Sir,” the guard's voice sounded urgent, and even a little frantic as he leaned in farther. “There is not much time. Give them to me and leave. I am not attempting to swindle you, but an emissary of The Great is awaiting your-”
“Be there dealings thou wouldst whisper in an ilk of conspiracy?” A sharp, declarative voice descended from above and a wispy purple ray spiraled into the back of the guard. His eyes shot open as his head whipped around to look for the source of the voice. The guard stumbled backwards, as if being pulled, until he was flat against the wall next to the gate.
Gusts of wind bit into my freezing face. I watched with watering squinted eyes as a blurry being, glistening like a bleeding angel, descended before us. The corties reared back, and I wrestled with the reins to keep them steady as this figure landed.
“I am Richard of the Elysian Halo, emissary of The Great. I seek those who hath music tokens of Alex and Eddie Van Halen.”
Towering over me was a man, a scaled man, in gleaming ruby, golden trimmed plate armor. In the center of his chest was a golden symbol of the sun, a small circle in the middle and sixteen cones around it. His dragon-like crimson wings extended at least twelve feet on either side, similar to Vetia’s, though larger. A single golden spike protruded from his helmet like a unicorn’s horn that resembled similar spikes on the armor’s shoulders and elbows. He was incredibly pale aside from scales cresting up his cheeks, scales the same crimson red as his wings. His eyes were wide and slim, with irises like pools of blood. Shark-like teeth emerged as he spoke and pushed several strands of long crimson hair back under his helmet. He then extended his scaled, clawed hand toward me, but I was too scared to move.
“Perhaps the wind buffeted thine ears. Art thou the token bearer?” He held his hand extended before me.
I nervously looked down at his hand and then back up into his eyes, but my mouth wouldn’t move to respond.
His eyes turned from me to Miriel, then to the tokens she held. He reached over me and pried them from her hands, which were quick to let them go. She hesitantly spoke. “Those are for-”
“Silence.” His voice commanded with no authority like I’d ever heard. He didn’t even look at her as he inspected the tokens.
Miriel’s voice became stern and snippy. “Sir, respectfully, those tokens are for a woman who resides within the towers.” She reached out her hand for the tokens.
The armored man spoke dismissively to me as he swiped a glowing claw on the back of the bowl to play the song. “Boy, still your woman lest I discipline her myself.”
“...fuck did you say?” In a combination of fear and offense, I finally managed to speak.
“What breed of crass roach art thou to dare curse before my ears? You shall know The Great himself wishes to investigate these tokens. Thy offense to me is offense to his likeness.” His grim eyes locked with mine and his hands stilled.
“He means no offense,” Miriel raced as she spoke, her expression turning worried. “He is simply unaware of higher customs.”
The token began emitting music from its trough, and he listened as “Freebird” started and then he paused it.
“Mine ears are unacquainted with this foreign tune.” He looked at the two of us again. “Inform me of where Alex and Eddie Van Halen reside.”
Both Miriel and I didn’t say a thing. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t get words out. I didn’t know what to say to cover our tracks. I wanted to tell this guy to fuck off, but I was getting flashbacks to Lady Simira in the wagon, only this person felt leagues more threatening.
“Speak!” His voice thundered through the air and shook me to the core.
What the fuck do I say without giving us away?!
Yet still, neither of us could speak. Even Miriel, who was so bold moments ago, was frozen in place.
“Twould be my luck that such informants are a simpleton and his dominatrix.”
Suddenly, his hand shot out and wrapped around my neck, lifting me from my seat and out of the wagon. The searing shock of his claws penetrating the sides of my neck only made my heart race and my lungs search for air that couldn’t find its way in. My hands weakly scrambled to break his iron grip, but the more my body dangled, the closer my head felt to being dislodged from the rest of me. The pressure in my face built and my head already felt lighter.
“Woman. Tell me of the location in which Alex and Eddie Van Halen reside, else I siphon the fool’s lungs of air.”
Miriel couldn’t speak and the black spots were taking over my vision.
I finally choked something out. “Diona- Madam Diona!”
“Madam Diona of where?”
Nothing else could escape my throat. My arms fell to my sides, my body giving up everything just to keep my eyes open.
Miriel took over. “Madam Diona of Vehfirn! She’s their employer! She runs the pleasure parlors and taverns in the Hallax Quarter! Please let him go!”
I couldn’t see anymore at that point, but my body swung and took flight before impacting something and then the ground. My eyes regained focus on the bright blue sky as puffy white clouds drifted overhead and I gasped for air on my back.
“Br-Brenden… you’re-”
She was right behind me, her hands underneath my back as she shifted me off of her chest and into her lap. Her worried face came between me and the pale sky. As I lay there heaving, her hands passed over the gouges in my neck and the stinging went away one by one. I tried leaning up, but my entire neck cramped and seized, the muscles strained and bruised.
“Calm. Calm. Lay still. I’m not done.” She passed her fingers over the other side of my neck, prodding the wounds and feeling around until she gently held onto both sides of my face. “How does it feel now?”
I lifted my neck and sat up. My neck was movable, if not stiff and sore. “Fine. It’s fine now.” I groaned as I turned to look at Miriel, but she was already up and raising me by my shoulders.
“Good. Brenden, I am sorry there’s no time for you to rest, but we need to get you and Desmond and leave as soon as possible.” Anxiety shook her quick, calculated voice despite sounding so sure of herself.
“Wait a second!” I turned around and stepped back for a moment. She looked like I had blindsided her. “What do you mean get Desmond and leave? You wanna leave Vehfirn? Now?”
“I don’t think we have a choice, Brenden. If that man is from the Elysian Halo, the place where the most powerful and influential people of Rhial live. And he is an emissary of The Great, the one who rules that place, then you are not safe anywhere. We can ponder why they’re after you in the wagon if that is what you would like, but we no longer have time to be asking questions. Madam Diona will speak of Hallax and Hallax will speak of you. They won’t conceal you if he threatens them, so the more distance we put between us and Vehfirn, the better. Going back to retrieve Desmond is an enormous risk in and of itself. But we need to go, now!”
I nodded and got up on the wagon. The corties turned us around and we rapidly set off for Vehfirn.
Miriel started her planning. “If we travel north out of the city and follow that road for several days, we should be able to put enough distance between us and the city that our location won’t be certain. Then we can come back and-”
“We’re not leaving,” I said definitively.
She was speechless for a moment. “What… Brenden, what do you mean we’re not leaving?”
“We’re staying until me and Desmond can get our friends back.”
“Brenden! If the Elysian Halo wants you, then you’re either going to be captured or killed. And we don’t know what they want with you.”
“I can’t give up on my friends like that. They’re relying on us to do our part and get them out.”
“This isn’t giving up on your friends, Brenden! It’s preserving your life and having another chance down the road!”
“Miriel, I’m not leaving! Simira imprisoned my friends and the only way she lets them out is if she gets what she wants! When I went there to perform, it wasn’t just to perform. We inspected the tunnels where her mother was killed to gather evidence for some fuckin’ lawsuit or whatever against her father. Her father sent a guy down there to kill us and he had poison that would have killed Simira and Tells if it wasn’t for some lucky bullshit from Tells! It’s been almost two weeks, and nothing has happened yet, but if Simira fails, then I odds are the Viscount won’t free my friends. If this plan goes under, odds are I don’t ever see my friends again because they’re killed for working with her. Their lives are on the line as much as mine is, and I’m the only one with the recordings of the cave. Without the recording, Count Chocula or fuckin’ whatever won’t give Simira the trial win because they need evidence.”
I took a breath and collected my thoughts for a second.
“Miriel, I have to do this. I can’t risk their lives just to save myself. They would do the same for me.”
Miriel looked away, eyes following the passing trees. “I apologize. I didn’t know things were so dire.”
“I wish they weren’t, I really fuckin’ wish they weren’t, but I can’t give up because it’s scary. He saw both of us, but that’s not the end of the world. I’ll… change the way we look or something while we’re there. Or if you’re worried about yourself, I’m not gonna stop you from getting the hell out of here.”
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
“No.” She turned around with a look of fearful determination. “I’m not abandoning you. As long as I’m here, I can make sure you’re safe, even if I can’t fight for you. I have no stake in this, so I won’t suffer the collateral and I can help from the side. But please, promise me something. Promise me that the very moment your role in all this is done, we’ll get out of the city until you can retrieve your friends.”
“Sure. I promise.” I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it to reassure her. “Then when we get out of here, we’ll have time to give whatever this is a real shot.”
“I’d like that.” She squeezed my hand back, still a fearful look on her face, but I could tell she was planning out everything.
“We’ll get out of here, that’ll be six of us,” I said. “You plan on bringing your crew along?”
“Al’Li, definitely. Hestrel will likely come. I’m unsure about Zerick and Dex because they both may want to stay.”
“I’ll figure out a way to bury the hatchet with Dex. Either way, he knows Desmond can beat his ass, so he probably won’t start anything. And, Richard. If he comes for us, that’ll be ten against one. Adam, Hestrel, and Zerick are built like brick shithouses, so even if Richard is better at fighting, we’ll have a chance. We’ll have you and Vetia to keep us healed up. I’m sure the others will be able to help out too. Attack from range or something while the others keep him busy. We didn’t see his weapon, though, and his sigils may cause problems. But I think if we play our cards right and work together, we could definitely win without losing anyone.”
Miriel wasn’t responding, and when I looked over she was staring wide eyed at me.
“What?” I asked.
“I- I didn’t realize you were such a planner.”
“Somebody had to wrangle and organize the other four dipshits. I’m used to coming up with ways to get us out of trouble. We’ve got a better idea of how things work here now. I’m sure Adam could come up with a strategy for us to win. He’s got a good head for that type of stuff. Maybe Desmond and Rowan could even talk us out of it.”
The rest of the ride back was quiet, but we had some reassurance and backup plans in place, so at least Miriel wasn’t as worried as before. It was turning into a race against the clock. We had to complete this plan before Richard got to Madam Diona, but I had no control over when I would be summoned for the trial.
* * * * *
“Lord Hallax!” I yelled as we raced into the hall to see him.
“Alex, I will speak to you later, as I have business to attend to in a moment, so stay close by. It is regarding your duties.” Hallax hurried out of the hall toward a meeting room. He didn’t even look back.
“Lord Hallax, listen to us!” Miriel yelled, stomping toward him and he stopped, slightly displeased and offended.
“Miriel, I appreciate your services, but you are in no position to-”
“An emissary of The Great, one of the highest members of the Elysian Halo is searching for Alex and Eddie Van Halen.” Miriel assertively yelled over the end of Hallax’s sentence, and just as his face was turning indignant, it fell into an expression of pure fear.
“Tell me everything. NOW!” Hallax was before Miriel in a second, standing over her as she recounted the scene to him.
“You sicced him on Diona?! No, no! Fera!” Horror overtook him. He yelled to a guard. “Hasaf! Find Dex! I want you and him to monitor Fera’s wellbeing every moment of every day! If my daughter is hurt, it’s both of your heads!”
Hallax ran down through the hall and out the front doors into the middle of the road. He turned his eyes up to the sky and traced his finger along the ring of islands, seeming to look for something. Miriel and I raced out after him.
“Miriel! You said he returned upward?”
“Yes, Lord Hallax.”
He counted silently before turning back to us. “It could be between one and ten days depending on how quickly he can ascend to speak with The Great, what priority this is, and why they want those two. Miriel, inform Madam Diona of this. The sooner she can conceal herself, the more time we have. Her dirty business won’t stand in the eyes of the Elysians. We cannot lose our opportunity to complete Simira’s plan, and we may still have enough time to do so and then send the two boys off.”
“Lord Hallax,” I cut in, “what if we get the guard together and put up a front so he backs off? Can’t we-”
Lord Hallax yelled at me, hopelessness lacing his frantic explanation. “Alex! You do not understand the severity of this. Our guard opposing one of the Elysians will only provoke more to come and slaughter us, to slaughter me and my house! I will not invite death upon my people! These Elysians are not mindful of our laws, nor will they yield to our arms. As people answer to nobles and nobles answer to kings and kings answer to the Body, these Elysians answer to nobody! No man, no woman, no king can subjugate them or hold power over them for that matter. The less time you are around, the safer we all are. And Alex, I will not protect you over myself, my daughter, or my people. Miriel, go now!”
As Miriel took off down the road, Hallax stared into the sky. His usual powerful and confident visage became fearful, contemplative, like he was steeling himself for a coming war. Suddenly, he took off toward the hall.
“Come, Alex. I have an inkling that we will be summoned soon.”
* * * * *
It was before dawn the next morning that Lord Hallax, Desmond and I set off to the towers with our guard caravan. Even for the freezing foremorning, Hallax only wore a thick golden fur robe over his usual near-nakedness. Today, Viscount Amien would be tried before the Countess. Desmond stayed with the wagon while Hallax, myself, and a guard troop were guided through hallways of dark wooden floors and stone walls adorned by silver. We finally approached a set of inconspicuous wooden doors where only Lord Hallax was allowed to pass. I waited for a long time, my nerves wracked even though I didn’t have to do much at all besides invoke the second portion of the recording sigil.
After probably thirty minutes anxiously practicing the motions for the sigil, the door opened and a guard asked for me. I hesitantly stepped into the stone-walled room with murals of silver and gemstones. I didn’t have time to take in the vast displays of war, because there was already a battle in front of me. On one side was Lady Simira and Lord Hallax, and on the other was the lone Lord Hazjiken Amien. They were sat at tables on either side of no man’s land, the empty floor with Count Jeun Wey at the height of it behind a podium. He was an old man with a small physical presence, but his black irises were piercing into me the second I made myself known. A wild stringy mess of white hair was messily pulled back into a braid, his scarred pale face wrinkled and shrewd, but dignified. Even for as old as he was, he held his chin high and his face solemn as to demand respect. He tapped her fingers together, beckoning me forward with the light jingles of golden bracelets. Every noble except Lord Amien had golden bracelets and jewelry of all different kinds.
Count Wey’s cold, commanding old voice called me. “Step forward and invoke the sigil of record.”
I saluted the room and stepped forward as Hallax had trained me. Without a word I traced the sigil into the air. All of the spectral sigils had a way about them where they mirrored the way I traced. For this one, I brought both hands around in a circle, moving bottom to top. This first shape reflected two other circles at even points between the ones I made, like six evenly spaced longitude lines on a globe, intersecting with my own body. I didn’t feel them, though, but that was kind of the point of the sigil. The second part involved me stepping forward and pulling one section of the circle left, extending the light and filling in the open space, completely blocking my vision to the rest of the room. From there, I meditated a moment to picture the memory in my head. Normally, this sigil would require me to create a series of shapes that would get me recording, but not for viewing. I brought my hand from the center of the circle in a swirl to outside the circle, and joined with the other sections that were created through the mirroring effect. As I focused, color swirled through the off-white sphere around me. I immediately needed to carve a symbol in the center, where none of them could see. An infinity symbol with three lines jutting out of each side of it, twice mirrored.
As soon as I finished that, the off-white sphere faded, displaying my memory across its surface. The back of my head jolted like I was being ripped open, a searing pain as the memory was ripped straight from my head. I collapsed onto the floor, on my hands and knees mentally willing the memory to halt. It did so, and I caught my breath.
Hallax’s voice called calmly for me. “Brenden!” He sounded worried. “Are you well?”
The pain went as quickly as it came and I stood. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Hallax. Just a temporary pain involved with the sigil.” I glanced at the sigil, and it was like a perfectly spherical cloud that you could barely see through, but across the sphere, the screen, was my perspective of the events in the cave.
Count Wey looked at me apathetically. “Begin the memory.”
The memory was short, but it depicted the rubble and caves beneath the manor, then me being boosted by Tells witness the charge. The memory was devoid of color, illuminated in grayscale like night vision. Most importantly, we all saw the thin metallic box with the partially singed fuse. I paused the memory right as I fell off of Tells and Rezyn attacked, but they could only see the blur of me falling.
Lady Simira stood and crossed to the center of the room, revealing three shards of blackened metal in a cloth. “Count Wey, these shards are from the detonated charges that my father set in the caves. The residue on them is from the chemical compound that is within the charges which allows them to detonate without the use of sigils.
Lord Amien’s chilling voice spoke up, and his frail old self stood. “Count Wey, there is no evidence that this is true. There is no way of validating this man’s memories, nor do I have knowledge of these charges my daughter speaks of. Simira’s grief for her mother clouds her judgment, and I am appalled that she would accuse me of killing my own kjzae.”
“Hazjiken,” Count Wey responded, “I was in those caves many years ago when even you were young. Your former kjzae’s family kept the cave like a trophy of their conquest. They bragged about it to me and showed me firsthand. The structure in the center is proof enough.”
Simira barked back at him. “And the charges are a protected secret of the mining guilds of Triala! Your family is one of the barons of the guild! Count, his claim of foolishness has no base”
“Even so, daughter, these charges you speak of have no connection to me. How could one outside the mining guild claim a guild secret? Count Wey, there is no case against me here.”
“That is wholly untrue.” Lord Hallax stood. “My quarter is gilded with precious metals, and acquiring those metals is quite difficult. I was once close with the mining barons, particularly Hazjiken’s family. Upon Lady Simira informing me of this matter, I took it upon myself to inquire with the mining guild. Prospector Loo Ie of the Vehfirn Mining Guild has agreed to identify and provide an example of the charge that was retrieved from the caves, though he cannot give details of the formula.”
“Present the evidence,” Count Wey said.
A guard opened the door and a four foot tall bald man walked in. He had gray skin and two slits for a nose. His large droopy ears bounced with each step he took into the room. He was a wide little man, but was dressed in extremely thick furs and wools, even for how warm it was in here. The air seemed to shimmer almost unnoticeably around him, too, like when you can see the heat coming off the road or a stovetop.
Simira presented a metal box, then opened it to reveal the charge from the mines. The prospector saluted and stepped forward to inspect the device.
“It suhtainly looks like a blastin’ chahj.” He had an odd accent, the Triali equivalent of an Italian American accent, kinda like the Godfather. “Lemme open it ‘n see.”
He pried open several spots and carefully lifted the top of the charge off, running his fingers through the powder to sniff it. “The chahj is nicely made. Old, but the powda’s good. Ay kid, come ‘ere.” He placed a pinch of powder into the lid and handed it to me. He then passed me a long thin stick. “Put the powda in the centa there ‘n light it up wit dis stick.”
I did as he said, placing the bit of powder down, then igniting the end of the stick with my hand. I lowered the flaming stick to the powder and it flashed brightly with a loud pop.
“Sure as shit works.” The prospector stopped himself. “Apologies Lords and Ladies, for my crassness. I don’t get ahtta the mines often” He held the charge, powder up toward the Countess. It was half his size, so it was almost comical. “Countess, dis chahj got enough powda to blow this towa in half from this room. Them cave walls would fall down easy to sometin’ like dis.”
Count Wey inspected the bomb and the room, then to the memory. “Does that charge match the one from the memory, prospector?”
“It does, Count. Singed fuse matches and this powda’s old.”
The Count looked down at the bomb, then to Simira and Hallax. “Your evidence thus far, the diary, the map, the exchanged letters, the memory and the charge are sufficient in incriminating Viscount Amien of the-”
Like I could feel a change in the temperature of the air, I glanced over to Lord Hazjiken Amien, whose fingers were ever so slightly moving at his side, glowing red. His brow shone with sweat like he was tired, or low on jzanmah. It was almost as if time slowed down and my body launched forward. A beam of curling flame shot from his finger toward the bomb in the prospector’s hands. My body went faster than I thought I could go, but it was still struggling to keep up with the fire, which fluttered forward like an electric butterfly. I reached my hand out to block the flame from hitting the bomb, halfway between the prospector and Lord Amien. I wouldn’t be able to catch the spiraling fire which curled away from me.
It’s my life or everyone’s life right now! Even if I die, my friends will go free!
With a final burst of everything I had in me, I pushed forward just enough for my finger to impact the flame and a burst of heat enveloped on my hand. My left ring finger incinerated in an instant. The concentrated explosion of heat scorched the rest of my arm, snapping my fingers backward and breaking my wrist.
I collapsed to the ground, holding back screams, clutching my hand. I couldn’t focus on anything other than my sizzling, bubbling blackened hand. Cold shot through my arm, so incredibly cold as the prospector kneeled down to pick me up.
“Ay Count! Guards! Some o’ yas! This kid needs a regenerator now if he wants to keep the rest of his hand.” He leaned down and looked me in the eyes. “Hey! Look at me! Keep your eyes open! Shit, kid, you didn’t need to do dat.”
“What is this?!” Lord Amien yelled and I heard him wrestling with the guards. “What did-?!”
Count Wey turned to him, as apathetic as ever. “You are bold to ask such a thing, Hazjiken, after such an attempt on our lives. I hereby strip you of your title and your power, leaving the house to the next in line, Lady Simira." She turned to me. "Boy, your sacrifice is noted, but unnecessary as the prospector took safety precautions when handling the charge.”
“Ie! We were friends once!” Hazjiken yelled at him. “What is that jzanmah?!”
“Just 'cause we was friends doesn't mean I'll letcha kill me. You been outta da business a while, old timer. New tech.” The prospector lifted me up. “This cold I got goin’ should buy ya a lil time. Count, can someone take dis kid to a regeneratah?”
The Count glanced down his nose at me with no change to his face. “He made the decision of his own volition. His action or inaction changes nothing here, as your sigil would have prevented the fire from reaching the charge. You have already brought enough trouble into my house Hallax. Do not bring any more. Nyadin, you may release the sigil, but I owe nothing to you.”
Lord Hallax stood. “Count, if I may, I will pay for the costs of your regenerator for this.”
“My regenerator’s services are not for the commoners, nyadin are no exception. We will reconvene tomorrow, Lady Simira, to discuss the terms of you serving me directly.”
“Yes, Cou-” With Simira’s attention away from him, a blast erupted from Hazjiken. He darted beneath the table and clamored across the ground before anyone could react. I didn’t even see him, too wrapped up in my pain to react until his arm was around my neck, crackling electricity next to my ear. The room stilled, the nobles behind the tables, guards unmoving, and Ie only close enough that my arm was still cold.
"Count!” Hazjiken Amien seethed next to my head. “You cannot let my daughter rule! She will tear my house and your house down at the seams, from within! She is unfit for leadership!"
Simira's proud smile twisted into unabashed hatred. “That's a blasted statement from a man who sold his quarter to the first bidder. The one who murdered his own kjzae. Not a worthwhile word has left your mouth since the day you were born. You release that man at once.”
"That woman was never fit to rule. Your mother was weak. She was willing to give up power to please her subordinates. She couldn't burn a bridge if the end of her house was walking over it. You’re the same, no will to survive!"
Every one of his words stung into her. Pricked at her temper, but she fought back her own rage. She didn’t even speak to him, her eyes overflowing with disgust and righteousness.
"The people will burn beneath you! You’ve no understanding of the damage you will inflict. Your rule will be remembered as that of a tyrant! And I have an inkling that you’re not telling all! Brenden, continue the record.”
I kept my head as far from the electricity as possible, but little shocks continued zapping my ear.
The Count stared me down, nodding at Hazjiken. “Do it.”
I let the rest of the memory play. The attack by Rezyn, his beatdown, the knives thrown, Simira beating his head in, and her near death.
Count Wey glared at Simira, a dire, pressing matter overflowing on his face. “What foolishness is this?! Housing a mau in the city?! As your personal servant?! I demand answers at once. I am not to make enemies of the Elysians, and their presence here may yet be your fault.”
Simira’s breath faltered for only a moment before she steeled her will. “Count, it was a lucky coincidence. Tells had no knowledge of her heritage until after this quarrel, which saved my life, and I planned to release her after the events of today. Nobody will know a mau was in the city.”
Hazjiken yelled out, the electricity slipping closer and closer to my temple. “She harbors enemies of the Halo within your city, Count! Those tears which wrested her from poison can only be given by mau! She cannot be trusted! Her tyranny exists because she knows not the rot that pervades within the mau! First a jinian and now a mau! This city is bound to fall in ruin!”
Simira’s voice shook, growing hatred within her chest. "If scum calls her rot for simply being mau, then I’d sooner die with the mau than let you continue your reign."
Hazjiken smiled, leaving no card unturned, no play unused. "No loyalty to your people, just like your mother with the yeffen! The court has no loyalty to you, they do not respect your words, they only respond to your mother’s name. A people who do not fear you will never be ruled by you, and a ruler who lets those beneath them rise can never stand strong."
Her face fell to pure apathy. "My people serve me because I serve them. If your only avenue of rule is fear, then you were only ever a ruler."
He broke into a hysterical fit of laughter. "Oh, not this! Not- ahaha! Not another speech on love and loyalty! The naivete may kill me before you’ve the chance to take my head!"
"No more speeches. No more wickedness. Not in our city."
His laughter halted for a moment, as if he was reminiscing on a fond memory. "Funny, I thought the same thing when I killed your mother."
Simira’s temper finally broke. She vaulted over the table as several guards rushed to hold her back, fighting to keep her from strangling her father on the spot. He only brought his fingers closer to my head. “Careful, daughter! I’ve another creature that you so love! Will you sacrifice yourself yet again for an outsider?!”
I found the words in my throat, somewhere in my fear. “Lady Simira, if I have to die for my friends’ freedom and this man’s head, then let it be known I died for them.”
She stared me down, respect in her eyes, and nodded.
A grotesque laugh escaped through Hazjiken’s demonic smile. "I should have killed you immediately after your mother! I thought about killing you in your sleep so often, but even I would feel guilty for not letting you die slowly. I want you to feel the miserable pain of death, to bleed out slowly like your mother did while your life falls apart around you.” He snickered venomously, his strength waning, sweating profusely onto me as his jzanmah tolerance rapidly fell.
The Count watched curiously, clocking Simira more than Hazjiken, like he was using this as a test of her temperament.
“Did you know that I went down after the charges went off? To see my work? There I saw her, shielded from stones by a yeffen’s arm. Your mother was so close to surviving, had her legs not been crushed beneath a boulder. She was still alive when I found her, and she begged me through parched lips to pull her free. She was so thirsty she could barely speak.” Hazjiken cackled, consumed in the hilarity of what he was about to say. “She thought I loved her! She called me 'love' when she begged so pathetically. She should have loved me sooner, because she never knew that watching her die miserably was the most pleasurable moment I have ever experienced. So do you know what I did?”
Simira was stilled by the guards, clenching her fists, quaking with the violence she wanted to gut Hazjiken with.
What terrified me was how genuine his words were. How much he relished in murdering Simira’s mother. “I pissed in her mouth and left so she would live just long enough to be consumed by the rodents and bugs attracted by the blood."
Simira’s eyes became wide, animalistic, and cold. Like she wasn’t even looking at him as she slowly approached us, as his fingers grew closer and closer.
Fuck, fuck, this cold sweat won’t go, it’s so cold! FUCK! I CAN DO IT! As long as they know I died for them, I’ll fuckin’ do it. I can’t even lie to myself, I want this guy dead now.
And yet why am I so scared? I know it’s right, but I wanna live, see my family again. I wanna see mom. I wanna go out with my friends. I wanna see Kyle do better than I did. I wanna thank Miriel for even giving me the time of day. I wanna see what life here has to offer, because this may be it. Why does my head feel resolved, but my heart won’t let me push against his fingers so I can die with some pride? Why do I feel so frozen in my own body, steadfast but unwillingly?
Hazjiken’s breath grew unsteady and the crackles grew less intense, “Ie!” His head quickly turned to Ie and his fingers pressed against my temple, but the frigid air from Ie halted the electricity, who had been silently creeping closer amid the confusion.
On the spot, several guards lunged forward, tackling Hazjiken and pinning him down. Ie pulled me away, setting me behind Hallax as the record faded from the air.
Breathless and thankful, I leaned my head on his shoulder and patted his back. The freezing man chuckled. “I gotcha, kid. Now don’t stay too close, or you’ll get chilled to death.”
I pulled away, keeping my arm in range of his sigil, a kind guard giving me support to stand.
Count Wey quietly commanded her. "Viscountess Simira, his blood will not be spilt in this room."
Simira stepped forward, emotionless in tone. “Guards, deliver this creature to the arena.”
Hazjiken smiled wider. “There it is, daughter, you’ve given yourself over. From that you’ll never return."
“His execution is today after the fighting. And father, father in heritage alone, your ploy was weak, imprecise, and incredibly flawed. If I’d been of the same low breed as you, then you’d have been dead the day after. Today, I will show the people the true nature of your filth, your scum, so that they may never be ruled by any like you again.”
Hazjiken’s eyes widened and he growled at her like a rabid street dog. "The house will never be yours. Your anger, your hatred will not die with me. It will live on, just as mine did. It will fester like a miserable gash in your soul. And you will kill everyone you love. Then yourself. I only wish that I could watch you suffer at the end."
Viscountess Simira nodded to me and had no more to say to him. She turned to the Count, who gestured to the guards.
The guards pulled me out of the room and Hazjiken Amien was close to follow. Simira lagged behind, exchanging a few words with the Count.
As tense as the scene began, we were suddenly back outside with the coming dawn.
“Holy fucking shit! What happened?!” Desmond jumped down from the wagon.
“Get in the wagon!” Hallax ordered. “Take us back to my hall, now.”
The kind guard helped me into the back of the wagon, where I laid in pain for the ride back. Hallax informed Desmond of what happened, and that everything went almost exactly as planned.
Desmond turned to me, sorry, but approving. “Good shit man. We gotchu now.”
Hallax drew in a long, deep breath, a joyous smile overcoming his face as he stared at the rising sun with outstretched arms. “You two will remain at the Hall, your services no longer needed, but your secrecy from the Elysians required. This… this day, I will watch a moment I have so long awaited.”
I’m so tired. Not like dying tired, exhausted from everything. Maybe, just maybe, we can be done with all the conflict, the shows, everything now, and move on. I can see Adam, Tells, and Rowan again. It’ll be nice to get out on the road, catch up and find the next place to go. It’s weird, being so hopeful after I almost died, but maybe it’s because I almost died that I wanna go back to the simple things. I wanna go back to my family, here and back home.
I couldn’t remember much else because the pain became unbearable and I was busy fighting back my slipping consciousness. I vaguely experienced Desmond walking me into Miriel’s clinic, and her grabbing me.
“What- what happened?! How did this happen?!”
I gazed weakly at her, and with a dull smirk I said, “hand.”
She seems a lot more worried than me, but I couldn’t be happier to be alive.
I passed out onto one of the beds as she guided me down. How much more I would have treasured the sleep if I knew of the chaos I’d wake up to.