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Sora and Aruna rose from the seats in my father’s old study. Mine now. However, I still felt like a fraud. Because of my desire to be out there in the fields, I did not feel comfortable managing the kingdom from the inside.
My father had seemed weak to me. Delicate. However, his excellent head for numbers and persistent grasp of practicality had Prozeus running with no issues. Larond and Kasmia in Southern Arrowspear might generally be peaceful like Prozeus, but money had become tight because their rulers took from the coffers thoughtlessly.
The head witches would be returning to the Coven that afternoon. I would be lying if I claimed there was no fear in my heart. Outwardly, I was my usual stoic self. Inside, there were so many emotions battling for supremacy.
Fear. I was starting to understand why I might be the true target. Not knowing who your enemies were made it difficult, to say the least.
Impatience. Not knowing meant inaction. We would be waiting and waiting for answers. And perhaps, the enemy would strike before we could even unmask them.
Longing. The palace had become gloomier without Luella and Rowali. I had gotten used to waking up with my wife in my arms. The annoyance bloomed into something else. Was it the love they were talking about? I was not sure, but it was something. However, with them here, my fear would have heightened.
I walked out of my study, supposedly heading for the courtyard to go through another training session. Then, I realized that it had somehow darkened outside.
Again? I thought.
A few days ago, there was rain. It was a heavy downpour, but the next few days had been dry. It was almost like the rainy day was a phantom, a shared delusion among the citizens of Prozeus. I could feel my people’s unrest. We had never experienced anything other than minor scuffles.
It was a peaceful land. My father’s death had somehow ended that belief.
Today, just when I had sent off my witches to find the culprits of the unforgivable crime, the wind had picked up. I could hear banging from the solar. The open windows were slamming open and close. They had never felt this kind of abuse in Prozeus. It was wind, no rain or thunder, just the heavy whiplash of fury this time.
The servants scrambled to close the windows. They shrieked and ran, a combination of excitement and anxiety. One girl of sixteen almost bumped into me. She paled, but I held out my hand to assure her that I understood.
My father had died, and now the palace had become a muddled place to be in. I continued my walk to the courtyard. Would wind affect the flight of my arrow?
It was easier to hunt animal prey. During a windy day, they moved less. Therefore, my bow and arrow would still meet with their target. But humans? Humans were a trickier lot. Witches were worse. They could control the wind to their benefit. Whoever had been changing the weather in Prozeus must be truly powerful.
The Ninurta.
My blood ran cold. It had been years since I had heard its name. I was surprised when Luella uttered its deadly name, how she thought it could have been me. While I was still rattled by the revelations about my parentage, I was confident that I was no Ninurta. My source of information was reliable – my mother.
I was only eight when I first heard about the Ninurta. I could swear it was Razuku who had first mentioned it. He was a few months older, and his mouth never rested. He had stories about everything.
“Mother, what is the Ninurta?” I asked my mother.
Then, she looked at me as if I had thrown a wet frog at her, which I had down a few months earlier.
“Where did you hear that, Metheus?” she asked, holding both my hands as if she was going to keep me there with her.
“Here and there,” was my reply.
“Dearest, do not say that name again. The Ninurta is an evil god. He used to be a good one, making sure the harvest was good and ready whenever the people needed food. Something happened along the way. Famine. Destruction. Something snapped in him, it seemed. Nobody really knows the full story.”
“Oh.”
It was all so strange and massive to me, then. My young mind could not wrap itself around something so complex as the Ninurta.
“He has not struck in a long time, but many believe that he is responsible for the deserts of Arrowspear.”
“But I thought they said witches made Arrowspear dry.”
“Some witches were in league with the Ninurta. You need to stay away from them.”
“How would I know which witches to stay away from?”
“You do have a lot of questions today? Perhaps you need to go back to your languages and arithmetic?” my mother said, ruffling my wild curls. At that time, they were still loose and unbraided.
“I want to know more!”
“Okay, well, we have two covens we can rely on. You have the Coven of Prozeus and the Seers.”
“What about the Touch? What about your people, Mother?”
I could still remember how her eyes glazed then. It was as if she was looking at something in the distance. Something invisible. Perhaps it was her past that she was looking at. As a child, though, I only thought that she was puzzling about a question for which she had no answer.
But she did give an answer.
“Metheus, the Ninurta had taken so much from us. Remember that. It is a dangerous force, but I hope one day we will find the strength to take back from it.”
As a man, I knew that I would not let it take any more from Arrowspear. From my family.
