“So, this is the great Syakaran.” President Kadeshbarnea Carlile didn’t bother putting a sarcastic lilt to his words. He sounded bored.

Neither did Kadesh bother stepping out from behind his solid, dark-wood desk. This was probably not a good thing. Quite rude, really. At least he’d stood up to greet them, Braph supposed.

“And the young Syaenuk.” Braph kept his tone light and unoffended. “Many good breeding years left in her.”

Llewella’s protest died as a squeak in the back of her throat at Braph’s glare. She was in no place to make pleas.

“My people want a good show,” said Kadesh.

“They can still have their show. Just so long as no one kills him, there’s nothing stopping me healing him between bouts. He could go all day and night if that is what you want.”

“But it’s not the same, is it?” Kadesh walked around the desk then, sat back against it, folded his arms, and crossed his ankles. “My people wanted a show.”

“This would be even more of a show. Rather than seeing their countrymen spattered around the ring, they can fight him as equals. He is still a highly trained soldier, even if he seems to have forgotten that.” Braph looked on his half-brother with disdain. Jonas was still in a mood. “Give him a few days.”

Kadesh shook his head. “I asked you to bring me the Syakaran. Not some shell.”

Braph sensed Llewella and Jonas – well, at least Llewella, Jonas hadn’t exactly been engaged in the world the last day – bristling at the words.

“It was your people who put the arrow in him.”

“Yes. But he wasn’t the target, was he?”

Kadesh held Braph’s gaze and Braph held it right back, fighting to mask his initial surprise.

His familial temper flared. And why stifle it?

“Well, that was an unwise idea. You honestly think you could've subdued him without me?” He raised his right arm, pulled back the sleeve. “See this?” He shook his stump, sloshing the blood in its vial. It had clotted, stuck to the sides, but it would still work well enough, and it still illustrated a point. “Not only did your men fail to take my power, they helped me regain what you ordered taken three months ago. How does that feel, Mister President?” He turned to look at the President’s guards stationed inside the door. “This time, I am not hampered by a knife wound in my gut. You want to take my device today? Come and take it.”

The guards looked to each other, then the president, whom Braph could hear shifting behind him.

Braph whirled in time to grab Kadesh’s forearm before the knife met his back. He heard the guards make a move to protect their president, but with a thought he held them back. It wouldn’t last long. It didn’t have to. Just long enough.

“I have put up with your country’s hate and suspicion since I got here. You don’t want me here? Fine. I’m only here for the Aenuks. Give me the one I want, and I have no need to remain in Turhmos.”

“Aenuks belong in Turhmos,” Kadesh hissed.

Braph shook his head. “How very unprogressive of you.” He squeezed his fingers a little tighter around Kadesh’s arm. “Despite what you may believe, I am the most powerful man in this room right now. And though I may be short-handed …” He wiggled his stump. “I have two unlikely allies standing behind me. Jonas. Why don’t you pull one of my Gaards and give these men a demonstration?”

“Huh?”

Damn it. Jonas really wasn’t with it.

“Llewella.”

She moved up beside him swiftly, pulled his leather coat back and slid the Gaard from its holster. At least he could count on someone. She stepped away from him, leveling the Gaard at Kadesh.

“A demonstration, I said, Llewella.” He risked a sideways glance at her. He was straining under the effort of holding the guards. Time was running out

The Syaenuk relaxed, bending her elbows, holding the Gaard loosely.

“I think it’s time the good President Dahan made way for a new portrait, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Gray-haired chap,” Braph said through gritted teeth. He’d start sweating soon, and then everyone would see how hard he was working. He was, in that moment, the quintessential duck, paddling furiously. “Portrait. Wall on my right. Closest to the door.”

“Oh.” Llewella turned, extended her arms.

A thunderous crack filled the room. Glass shattered and showered from the wall, inter-mingled with plaster and wood fragments.

Llewella stumbled back against Braph. Kadesh covered his head with his hands and spun, taking himself around the side of his desk and hunkering there. Braph glanced over his shoulder to see the guards he’d lost control over flat on the floor, arms covering heads.

Only the Vastergaard brothers remained unaffected. The image brought a smile to Braph’s lips. If only Jonas was still Syakaran and wasn’t so caught up in his own idea of what was right and wrong, they could have made a brilliant team.

Llewella righted herself. Impressively, she hadn’t dropped the Gaard and was mindful enough to hold it like she was ready to use it again.

“Fuck!” Kadesh’s hand appeared over his desk, then his head tentatively rose until his eyes were high enough to peer at the damage. Plaster dust hung in the air, flaring in the now beautifully emphasized stream of low winter sun through the immense bay windows. “What is that thing?”

“That, Mister President, is an invention of mine that Turhmos could have had in its fight against Quaver. But I’m afraid, I find myself questioning my desire to do any future business with her. I’m sure you understand.”

The guards scraped themselves off the floor behind, struggling to maintain their professionalism as they cursed over lost hearing and filthy uniforms.

“Now. Orinia.”

“Yes, yes you can have her.” The president’s head rose a little and he flapped his hands, shooing Braph away like a bee, but he would not rise from behind his desk.

“Excellent. I shall claim her before anyone thinks about getting clever and changing their minds.” Braph turned to Llewella and held out his hand. She hesitated, perhaps thinking she stood a chance of running. But running wouldn’t solve her problems. He crooked an eyebrow. Realization finally dawning, she placed the Gaard in his hand. “Thank you, Llewella.” He pushed on between her and Jonas, leaving them to figure out that they should follow. At the door, he turned back to the president. “I shall be in touch to discuss what to do about the Immortal.” Ignoring the guards, he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

Thankfully, Colonel Salmen had had the presence of mind to wait outside the room, although he looked a little spooked by what he’d heard.

“Toddle off ahead to the Aenuk cells, would you? Kadesh is returning Orinia to me, and I don’t want any delays.” He slid the Gaard back into its holster.

Salmen had the same stunned look many adopted when Braph made demands. But his gaze lowered to where the Gaard now hung and swung up to Kadesh’s door. Another stupefied glance at Braph and he turned to jog ahead.

Braph turned to Llewella. “Ready to free your ma?”

She looked like she might cry. How touching.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

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The Turhmos Palace was many times more grand than Lord Tovias’s estate in Rakun. Llew could hardly believe that in a few short months, she’d gone from sleeping on the banks of a river in Cheer to walking the hallways of a palace.

The President’s office had richly polished floorboards and deep rugs. It also had incredibly high ceilings, but with two fires it managed to be a warm space. Warm and airy. No doubt a perfect space from which to run a country.

It hadn’t been all that long ago since she’d shared some gallows with a fellow thief. Now she’d shared a room with a president. And a man who made demands of a president. As terrified as she was of him, she was in awe of Braph in that moment. He wielded power like a man born to it. It was terrifying.

Following Braph along the corridor, she wrapped both of her hands around one of Jonas’s, seeking support as much as offering hers. She was out of her depth in every way, and the grand scale of the palace only emphasized the fact.

Jonas remained silent, and she couldn’t blame him. A week before, it would have been him walking into the palace making demands. And maybe worse than the loss of his power was the loss of his best friend, and his horse. And without his strength and speed, he was probably wondering what he was even doing there. Regardless of what other reasons there could be, Llew needed him there.

At that thought, she smiled and raised his hand to her lips, lightly kissing it. She walked, with his hand in both of hers, down to the Aenuk dungeons of the Turhmos Presidential Palace as light-hearted as a teenager in love. Which she was. And she couldn’t help smiling and basking in the warmth of that. She didn’t need Jonas’s speed; she didn’t need his strength. She just needed him. And needing him didn’t weaken her. It didn’t make her whole or fill some missing piece. It made her happy. Even if Jonas was too miserable in that moment to share her epiphany, it felt good to finally know how she felt. She loved him, and she didn’t need anything from him. She just needed to love him.

Taking the steps down into the Aenuk dungeons of the Turhmos Palace, Llew felt more free than she ever had.

The corridor felt much like those above ground, with its clean concrete floor and walls. The buzz and flicker of the electric lights in the ceiling were all that let down the otherwise not unpleasant space. Tiny windows built into the doors lining both sides of the corridor revealed one person per room. Some lay on their bed reading, some sat at desks, some slept. From the quick glimpses Llew caught of them, they seemed pale, like they didn’t get enough sun. Some men, but mostly women. And several were pregnant. And all were adults. Where were the children?

Llew scanned the doors. Simple latches. When the time came, freeing her fellow Aenuks wouldn’t be too hard. She had to be ready, and not repeat the failure with her father.

Colonel Salmen waited outside one of the doors with another man. This one was scrawny and pale, and covered head to foot in leather. Gloves, hood, jacket, trousers, boots. Only his narrow face with its solid mass of greyed moustache was visible.

Braph slowed as they neared that door. He brushed down the front of his shirt with his hand and stump.

Llew felt sick. This was her ma he was preparing to see. The nausea soon passed, replaced by eagerness. This was her ma she was about to see.

Colonel Salmen pulled on a pair of leather gloves and the skinny man pulled a mask attached to the front of his hood over his face as the trio neared the door.

Braph glanced at Llew and Jonas, and in that look, Llew read everything she needed to know. Her heart was already pounding.

Even Jonas emerged from his locked-in mourning. “You can’t leave Llew here. You know what they’ll do to her.”

Braph glanced to the door Colonel Salmen and the skinny man stood near and closed his eyes briefly as if pained. He turned back to Llew.

“They won’t bleed you. They know my devices don’t work for them, now.”

“But they still want her children.” Jonas took a step towards Braph.

“That nose of yours healed up well, didn’t it?” Braph over-played examining Jonas’s face. “Just a small bump, really.” His joviality flattened out. “For now.”

In a last-ditch effort, Llew spun on the spot and ran back the way they’d come. Braph grappled her within a few strides, pinning her arms to her sides and hugging her tight. He walked backwards, heedless of her efforts to keep running or kick at him. Faces appeared at the doorways either side. Most looked dumbly out. One cheered. For Braph or Llew, she couldn’t tell.

She was dragged back, back and into an open door. Colonel Salmen held a struggling Jonas back. A burlier man than the ex-Syakaran, he was having little trouble.

“Bring her with us!” Jonas cried. “Braph! Don’t leave her here!”

The skinny guard swung the door closed as soon as Braph had Llew within.

As soon as she was released, Llew ran at the door. Screaming through the window to be let out, her hands slid over the door, fruitlessly seeking a handle, lock, anything. But apart from the window, this side of the door was featureless. Still, she kicked at it and hammered at it with her fists. If there was a weakness, she would find it.

There was none.

Jonas looked helplessly back through the window.

She turned. Braph stood patiently in the center of the tiny room.

“You once asked me if I thought you a monster,” she said.

“Well, stated would be more accurate. Though, I suppose I did invite your discussion on the matter.”

“This is monstrous. After everything we’ve done—”

“For me? And what have you done for me? I am taking Orinia back. I am reclaiming my son and my home. No.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting. “If anyone has done anything for me, it’s Aris. It’s because of him I find what favor I still do here. And it is he who will provide the demonstration I sought from Jonas.” He walked to the door, pausing by the opening edge, ready to leave. “You listen.” He tapped his ear. “Within the week, a fortnight at the most, a buzz will go through this place. Aris will come to fight Jonas, and he will find me. The world’s Aris problem will end, and I will be the hero. And, who knows? In time, I may decide to free the Aenuks. Wouldn’t that be nice, eh?”

Llew deigned to answer with nothing but a wordless grunt. Didn’t matter what she said. Braph had it all mapped out.

The skinny guard’s face appeared at the window. Braph gave him a nod.

“Try anything and I’ll throw you across the room,” he said with a smile, like he was offering sage advice, as the lock clicked, and the door opened a crack.

Braph slid through and pulled it shut before Llew could stop it. She pried at the edge, but it was no use. The space between door and frame was minimal, far too small for fingers. She watched through the window as Braph prepared himself for the door opposite to be opened. She was about to see her mother for the first time since she was a child, and she wouldn’t even get to talk to her, or touch her.

Colonel Salmen still held Jonas back, but Jonas had given up. After a lifetime of physical superiority, he was struggling with, at best, being equal.

The skinny guard unlocked the door. A simple mechanism. Just a latch. The only reason it worked as a lock was because it was one-sided. Llew examined her window. A single layer of glass. Being so small it would be difficult to break, but it could be done. She glanced over her shoulder to the bed. Bedding, or a protective layer between a fist and a glass pane, had been provided. Her time would come.

Braph paused in the open door a few moments. Llew couldn’t see his face, nor into the room where her mother was. She craned to the edge of her tiny window, trying to see into the opposite room. But it was no use.

Braph stepped into the room, placing his feet carefully, as if avoiding startling a baby animal. He half-crouched as he moved farther into the room and disappeared from Llew’s sight.

A few moments later, he reappeared with a heavily pregnant woman under his arm. Her mop of hair was a similar color to Llew’s but streaked with grey. And that was all Llew could see, for her ma’s head was bowed. Braph held her close, although it looked as though she leaned on him voluntarily. Was she pleased to see him? Glad he had come for her?

“Ma.” Llew’s voice bounced straight back to her ears. “Ma?” she said a bit louder. She hit the window with the flat of her hand. “Ma!”

Jonas looked at her, then turned to Braph and said something.

Braph turned Orinia down the hall.

Jonas spoke again and Llew’s ma stopped.

“Ma!” She pressed her face to the glass, trying to see and be seen.

Jonas was still talking. Hadn’t stopped. Llew wished she knew what he was saying. The Colonel spun him round and punched him in the mouth. Jonas stumbled, but didn’t stop talking as he wiped the blood from under his nose. Llew thought he was shaping the words ‘daughter’ and ‘Llewella’ somewhere in there, but the rest she couldn’t guess.

Her ma looked to Braph. He eased his arm from across her shoulders and she turned.

She had fared better than Llew’s pa, looking not quite so old; still far more haggard than her forty-ish years could account for on their own. Her eyes sat deep. And she looked tired. So very tired. And sad.

And pregnant.

Her belly suggested many months gone. Nearly due, perhaps.

She walked back to Llew’s door, her eyes glistening. She pressed her hand to the glass and Llew reached out her own.

“We were supposed to rescue you,” Llew said, knowing full well her mother couldn’t hear her.

Another botched attempt. At least her mother lived.

Braph guided Orinia away. She didn’t protest. Too tired. Too helpless.

Llew felt empty watching her mother go with Braph, and Jonas, with one last look, reluctantly behind. She wasn’t cut out for this hero business, had never planned to be, and her attempts, so far, had been abysmal. Now she needed rescuing, and there was no one left who both would and could.

She looked around the room for something to throw, but there was nothing. Just a bed and a low desk built into the wall – low enough it didn’t need a chair. She pulled off one of her shoes and hurled it at the tiny window.

Damn Braph! Damn Turhmos!

A knuckle tapped the window and the skinny guard peered through at her and shook his head.

Llew moved back from the door and flopped on the bed. She would get out of here. She had to. But right now, it all seemed so hopeless. Right now, the energy to fight had fled.