Page 86

Ryn gasped as the Vafat lifted her body, her toes sliding off the floor. She clawed at its pale hand, her back slamming the wall and forcing the air from her lungs. Moisture pooled in her eyes as the piercing sounds of wailing Adriels across Per-Siana exploded in her ears. She gritted her teeth as she tried to push back against the doubt, the noise—

A whispered scripture crept in, a breath below the racket. A small phrase spoken by candlelight from the lips of her cousin. Another one followed; an illustrated story animated by a High Priestess. Then three more; held promises from a faithful mother.

Ryn released a raspy, soundless laugh. “You’re being deceived if you think you can overthrow the God Original. You couldn’t in the beginning, you can’t now, and you won’t in the end.” It came out as air. Ryn’s lip quivered as the creature raised her higher, holding her there, her legs kicking in search of purchase she didn’t find.

Growls snapped in her ears next.

“Are you certain, MAIDEN? This We know: The King shall fall. The hope shall follow. The kingdom shall shake. The ancient gods shall come awake.”

Blackness blotted Ryn’s vision as she pushed the voices out, whispering Dolem’s song on her lips in a breathless sound. And then she said, “Spirit of fear…” Her air disappeared, her mouth slipping shut as the Vafat leaned in and locked its startlingly purple eyes with hers.

The warmth left Ryn’s flesh as she saw a vision of gods, many gods, great beast-like beings, some beautiful, some terrifying. Monsters devastating practicing Adriels who followed the God Original in a horrid promise of the future. Her skin pebbled with cold, her last breath of air escaping. Fingers of black took over her vision, a hand reaching over her eyes, and her limbs went limp as her body succumbed to weakness. And as her lashes fluttered, her heart shouted the words her mouth couldn’t say: “Spirit of fear, leave in the name of El Tsebaoth.”

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear much. But in the dark slate of her mind, she thought she heard a soft voice and felt a finger of warmth touch her shoulder.

A scream and an explosion of colour forced her eyes open. A rusted sword split through the Vafat’s body, piercing the wall beneath Ryn’s legs. The grip on her throat loosened as the Vafat burst into a thick cluster of twirling red leaves.

Someone stepped through the leaves, catching Ryn as she dropped, her head landing on his shoulder that smelled of floral palace soaps and lantern oil. His hands guided her to the floor and fabric was thrown over her body just as everything faded to pitch black.

It felt like only a few seconds later when Ryn awoke to shouts. Her eyelids dragged open. Aches throbbed over her body. She winced as she tried to swallow against the tender swelling of her throat. A dark blue blanket forbade her from seeing who was out there, but her skin pinched with cold.

“What is this? There’s a body here.”

“It’s THE GOLD maiden.”

“Shall we take her?”

A pause. Ryn had no strength to fight them if they tried.

“Get back in the name of El Tsebaoth!” Geovani’s voice snapped through the darkness with the power of a roaring lion, and the blanket over Ryn ruffled. She breathed in, and a second later, the dizziness returned. She rolled her head to the side and fell back to sleep.

33

DAMON

Damon trembled against the closet wall, lifting his hands to behold the blood on his fingers. Yelenos’s blood. Everywhere. The closet door drifted open an inch in the wind, but he dared not reach to close it. He dared not move at all.

Beings in the scarlet of a foreign empire drifted through the atrium, their deep, dark murmurs rumbling up the walls, filling the space with a stomach-turning terror. Their hoods gave the only indication of which direction they looked in. Long, sweeping cloaks drifted behind them over the floor as they moved slowly, carrying the coldness of death in their walk.

Yelenos’s body rested by the fountain beside the corpses of Tepsin and Choi. Their beautiful Intelligentsia garments were tattered, splayed over the tiled floor like a rug tossed down to be trampled.

“Help me!” he pleaded, his whisper barely a sound. He hugged his arms to his chest, waiting for his gods to reply, to fill him with strength, or to make him into a monster that could save itself. For anything. He would have even settled for the arrival of a beastly king with inexplicable strength at a moment like this. A king that had muttered, “You’re going to regret turning the council against me, Damon. If you ever have to face Alecsander of B’rei Mira yourself, you’ll wish you had me on your side.”

Silence rang in Damon’s ears. Not even a murmur replied, as if even his gods were sleeping.

Damon yelped when a scream lifted from the atrium, and he slapped a hand over his mouth. No sooner had his heart settled when the door of the closet creaked open. He shrieked at the long scarlet hood, the face within too dark to see. The brooms and coats around him rattled and shuffled as wind leapt in, tugging at Damon’s sage coat.

“Please!” he screamed. “Please, spare me!” He clasped his hands together, scrambling to his knees before the creature drawing a long blade.

“We have the King.”

Damon almost couldn’t hear the unfamiliar voices racing across his shoulders and past his ears like a clashing of thunder, or a deep rumble below the earth. A sound that made his toes curl, that made his breathing still, that turned everything he knew upside down. A sound that carried a smell with it like foliage on fire.

No… Xerxes… The creatures had Xerxes; the only one in the palace who knew anything about their B’rei Mira enemies, who could turn into a powerful beast to rampage against those who crossed him, who had an understanding of these foreign things attacking the palace… The only one who might be able to save Damon’s life. They had him.

Damon whimpered and held his breath, preparing for the blade to meet his trembling body.

But the inhuman creature in the closet doorway paused. Damon shuddered as it remained still, its scarlet hood drifting in the violent breeze. Then it slid its sword away, backed through the atrium, turned, and drifted over the tiled floor toward the palace entrance. Three others like it followed.