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Chapter 28 - Wind
Metheus
The first week without Luella was spent finding out as much as possible about the poisonous dart. Upon close inspection, it held an eye mark. It was a roughly carved eye with a large pupil. The pupil was made up of six concentric circles. The middle circle was dotted with gold powder. No lashes. It was the Seer’s Village symbol.
We had to scratch some clay and dust from around it. It was as if someone was trying to make it look like the eye had been purposely hidden. The rough way it was done made me doubt it, especially since magic was involved. Whoever did it was an amateur. A witch who did it for the first time. We were not looking at a coven leader but a follower who might have gone rogue. Or was that also a diversion?
Aruna was horrified to see that the Seers’ symbol had been used to cause suspicion to blow their way.
“Your Majesty, you know that I will never do anything to hurt your family. We are open as you are open to us, to our gaze,” she said, holding the dart in her fingers. Almost caressing it at first, until her fingers started scratching it more forcefully. Irritably.
“Nobody would be stupid enough to use their own symbol on the dart they will use to assassinate a king,” I said drily. “Not when it was barely covered and meant to be seen.”
“It is someone close, someone who hates you and who hates us. A whole organized group, perhaps?”
‘Is that what you think? You don’t think this is a rogue attempt?”
“No. It feels young and inexperienced, true, but none of the younger ones know the Ninurta and the fire stealers. Only Rama’s young ones may still be aware. The act feels young, but someone holds the strings to this puppet.”
That made sense. However, that made our situation worse. We were at odds with an organization that hated me and possibly thought I was dangerous. If that was the case, we were dealing with a self-righteous group of killers. They thought that they were doing the right thing.
They would strike again.
“I do not want to die from a puppet’s strike,” I affirmed.
“We will do what we can,” Sora said. Then, she exhaled audibly. A strike on Prozeus was a strike on the Coven. The witches had openly supported my father’s reign from its very infancy. Their dwellings were financed by my father. He had made sure the Prozeus witches had the best that he could offer, giving them a residence fit for royals. Nobody in the kingdom questioned it. The dukes, counts, and other royal leaders benefited from the closeness of the witches. Their loyalty.
I was grateful that the covens had stayed in the palace for days, scrying together. They were trying to find the witches and warlocks behind the assassination. I wished I could do more than just take heat, especially now that I was the one at the receiving end of it.
“Could we get some help from Rama?” I asked, remembering the mediums and rumored demigods in my mother’s old kingdom.
“That may just be a brilliant idea, Your Majesty. Being in contact with Rama can accomplish two things: One, it can help you rattle the assassins. They may hate not just fire stealers but also other demigods. Further alliance with Ram may enrage your enemies, and we will be prepared for their attack. Two, we may just get some answers from them.”
“Wait. What do you mean by fire stealers and other demigods? What are you trying to say?”
“Fire stealers can only be born, not made, Your Majesty. I am guessing your father had never got the chance to have that talk with you,” Aruna sighed. “But we are here to guide you with what you need to know.”
My mind reeled at the thought. I believed that I was merely a freak of nature, given something I was not supposed to have. Now they were telling me that I was descended from gods? That could not be true. I was far from one – a god, I mean, or even half of one.
“But I am my father’s and mother’s child?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Yes, you are. But your mother was descended from gods. The grandfather that you knew was not your own by blood.”
As a man of almost three decades, I had always been confident that I knew who I was. I had always been described as self-assured. Arrogant, even, for those who did not know about my penchant for silence.
I could never go back to that silence, as roaring chaos had begun in my life. The drought might have been a cause or an effect, but something had undoubtedly changed.
“Why would people kill a fire stealer?”
“Because you can control an element of destruction, Metheus. They are afraid of you.”
I snickered at that. I regretted it right away as I saw the wary and drawn faces of the two witches. I apologized profusely and set off to explain my side.
“There is nothing to be afraid of a lowly farmer. I just take heat, and that is it.”
“You have never been a lowly farmer, Your Majesty. Your people appreciate your efforts to tame the Arrowspear and Ruzata temperatures,” demurred Aruna.
“Well, we will never really know the reasons for the assassination until we find out who it is behind your father’s death, Your Majesty. However, you are now equipped with more information about who you are. Your mother was a medium. You could at least try to tap into her abilities. Seek the help of the spirits. For now, we will be in contact with some Rama wise women. See if they know anything,” Sora said.
