Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (20 page)

But then he realized his head was still
intact, at least he thought it was. He could taste dirt on his
tongue and feel gravel beneath his skin, and the laughter…yes, he
could still hear the laughter.

He pushed himself to his knees as he moved
his gaze up the looming form of his brother. The sword was still
grasped in Whyn’s fist and Reiv could not seem to tear his eyes
from it.

“Did you think I would miss my mark?” Whyn
asked with amusement. “I spared you only because there is more from
you that I want.”

“What more could you possibly want from me?”
Reiv asked cautiously. “You took my throne, my love, everything I
once held dear. What else can I give you?”

“Your happiness.”

“My happiness?” Reiv said, confused. But then
he glanced behind him and saw the Shell Seekers now gathered
outside the pavilion, and realized they were his family now, and
that living amongst them had been the happiest time of his life.
His focus moved to Brina, standing with the others, her arm in the
firm grip of Yustes who was trying to prevent her from rushing to
Reiv’s aid.

Reiv returned his eyes to Whyn. “You want me
to leave Meirla,” he said.

“Meirla is mine, as it has been since the
reign of the Red King. And yes, I want you to leave it. I want no
more to hear of you, or for others to acknowledge that you ever
existed. But fear not; I will think of you often. For I will own
your happiness and will forever celebrate the day that you gave it
to me.”

Brina wrenched her arm free and raced to
Reiv, who was still on his knees, and examined the wound on his
neck. Her eyes blazed at Whyn. “You would draw your own brother’s
blood?”

“I could have drawn much more,” Whyn said.
“Unfortunately, I must be satisfied with but a taste of it. Though
I would prefer his death to his exile, it is not my decision to
make. The gods demand the honor of that task.” He sighed. “Ah well,
perhaps knowing he wanders in misery will have to do.”

“If he goes, I, for one, go with him.”

Whyn guffawed. “Do you think I care? Two
traitors can starve as easily as one.” He turned to address the
Shell Seekers. “Reiv is hereby exiled from Tearia,” his voice
boomed across the distance. “If any of you wish to go with them,
you have my blessing. But know this: Never again will you be
allowed within Tearia’s borders.” He gestured his arm toward the
sea. “You will be banished from these shores that you call home,
from the very waters that give you sustenance. How will you feed
your families? How will you survive?”

Reiv rose shakily to his feet. “Will they
survive if they stay?” he asked. “Or will you do to them what you
did to the Jecta?”

Whyn looked astonished by the question. “I
did what had to be done. As for who lives and who dies, the Shell
Seekers can still offer me service; the others could offer me
nothing.”

Reiv’s mind scrambled. What would happen to
the Jecta who had made it to the encampment outside of Meirla? And
what of the sick and injured, and those tending them? His heart
thumped at the thought of Cora. Would Whyn spare her because she
was Shell Seeker? And what of Torin and the girls? Would Whyn
finish what he had started?

“So the Shell Seekers will be allowed to live
if they agree to serve you as before,” Reiv said, working to piece
together Whyn’s meaning.

“Of course.”

“And the Jecta? Will you offer them the
same?”

“If they are worth the offer.”

“And if some choose to leave with me?”

Whyn laughed. “Then they would be fools. What
do
you
offer them?”

“Freedom.”

“To do what? Starve?” Whyn shook his head.
“No, Reiv, I very much doubt they will go with you. As I recall,
but moments ago you begged for your life. What sort of leadership
would that provide?”

Humiliation flared to Reiv’s cheeks.

“I see you agree,” Whyn said.

Reiv remained silent, again assessing Whyn’s
words. It seemed out of character for the King of Tearia to offer
anyone a choice in the matter. After all, he could simply demand
that they stay and serve him.

“Why do you give them a choice at all?” Reiv
asked. “Why such…generosity on your part?”

“It is simply good sportsmanship, do you not
think?”

Reiv’s eyes slid to the gold-tipped feathers
rising from the quiver at Whyn’s back, the very same as those
removed from Torin’s shoulder. Reiv had known those belonged to
Whyn, but now he could not help but wonder: Is that what Torin
was—sport?

Whyn turned and mounted his horse, then
squared his shoulders as he stared down at Reiv. “Tell your people
I offer them a choice. They may stay, or they may go. As for those
who stay, another choice must be made: who will serve me and who
will not. Only this time, I will do the choosing.”

“But that offers them little choice at all!”
Reiv said.

“They will soon learn to be satisfied with
what I give them.” Whyn lifted his chin as he made his last
announcement to the crowd: “I return at dawn. If Reiv is not gone
by that time, your life is forfeit. Leave with him if you wish. It
is your choice. But know this: If you stay, the quality of your
life will depend on your worthiness to serve me.” He steered his
horse into the mass of guards that turned to follow him down the
path.

Reiv watched as the Guards’ backs grew
distant. The Red King had returned—and with him the Purge. Reiv
felt as if a cloud of doom had descended upon him. There was little
hope of avoiding another massacre, especially of the Jecta. Even
the Shell Seekers were in peril. But how could he convince them to
leave?

“Do not listen to his lies,” Brina said. “He
cannot be trusted to hold his part of the bargain.”

“He can be trusted to hold this one,” Reiv
said. “Or part of it at least.”

They suddenly found themselves surrounded by
faces painted with kohl and confusion and fear.

“What else did he say?” some questioned.

“What are we to do?” others asked.

“I would say a better question would be, why
did Reiv bow down like that?” Lyal said as he pushed his way toward
him through the crowd. “Perhaps our suspicions about you were
correct.”

Reiv lurched toward Lyal, but Brina grabbed
hold of his arm and held him back. “Did you not see the blade at my
throat!” Reiv snarled. “Or were you too busy watching the urine
pool at your feet!”

“Perhaps the sword at your neck was just an
act,” Lyal sneered. He eyed the rest of the crowd. “I, for one,
still see a head upon Reiv’s shoulders.”

“Would you rather see it rolling in the
dirt?” Reiv asked

“Perhaps I would,” Lyal said, fingering the
short sword at his waist.

Reiv was consumed by rage. He curled his
fists and attempted another lunge, but Brina held tight to one arm,
while two men grabbed the other.

“Enough!” Yustes shouted above the swell of
tempers.

Individuals stepped aside as the Elders, led
by Yustes, wound their way between them and toward Reiv and Lyal.
Yustes placed a calming hand on Reiv’s shoulder, ordering him with
a nod of his head to relent. Reiv jerked his arms free, then worked
to steady the breath seething through his teeth.

Yustes shot Lyal a glare. “Remove your hand
from the weapon,” he ordered. “There’ll be no blood spilled here
today.”

“There’ll be blood spilled here soon enough!”
Lyal responded. “How do we know we can trust this—this Tearian? Did
you not see him kneel before the King?”

Voices muttered in agreement.

“Fools, all of you,” Yustes said. “The only
thing I saw was a boy facing death while the rest of you cowered
near the doorway.”

Men mumbled, realizing the truth of the
Elder’s words. Only one person had dared go to Reiv’s defense, and
that had been Brina.

“Tell us, then,” Yustes said, addressing
Reiv. “What does the King command?”

“He commands that I leave,” Reiv said. “As
for why…” Reiv thought back to Whyn’s cruel words and bizarre
appearance, and the Lion sword sweeping toward his own neck. It all
seemed so surreal. But the more he thought on it, the more he
wondered: Why had Whyn simply not killed him?

As if reading his mind, Yustes said, “Your
neck was well in the path of your brother’s sword. When he pulled
it back, it was as if an invisible hand had forced it from its
mark. Why do you think he spared you?”

Reiv shook his head, exceedingly grateful
that he was still able to. “I do not know. He said it was up to the
gods. Perhaps the entity that possesses him does not wish to
challenge at least one of them again. Agneis was no ordinary
foe.”

“Agneis?”

“It was not the collapse of the temple that
killed the Priestess,” Reiv said. “It was Agneis.” He shivered at
the recollection. “The Priestess was no mere woman possessed by her
beliefs; she was something more—a fiend from the underworld.”

“And now she has returned,” Yustes said.

“You saw her too then,” Reiv said. “In my
brother’s face.”

“I do not think she seeks to hide her
identity, do you? Clearly she wants her presence known.”

“I never realized how deep her hatred ran,
but seeing Whyn…”

“Did he say anything more?” Yustes asked. “I
seem to recall the word ‘worthiness’ being thrown our way.”

Reiv hesitated, but realized the worst had
not yet been said. “Yes. Whyn has initiated a Purge. It began in
New Pobu two nights ago, and will continue here in the morning,
unless—”

“But we signed a treaty with him!” someone
shouted. “Does that mean nothing?”

“At the moment, little,” Reiv said. “I
suspect it is the plague that has motivated the King to invalidate
it. The earthquake very nearly destroyed Tearia. Now the fever is
entering its borders. If Tearia is to survive, Whyn must protect
its citizens. And if he hopes to rebuild the city, he will require
slave labor.”

“But why slay the Jecta?” Yustes questioned.
“Would they not have suited his needs in the rebuilding?”

“The Jecta are weak,” Reiv said. “The fever
has seen to that. They can offer Tearia little at this point, other
than the threat of more illness. Thus far, the Shell Seekers have
avoided the outbreak. Whyn knows this. But he now also realizes
that many Jecta fled here. This could jeopardize his plan. He will
purge whatever and whomever he must in order to see it done. That
means the Jecta, and any Shell Seeker who holds no value to
him.”

Voices exploded, but Yustes cut them off,
reminding them that the sun was already descending the sky.

“You all heard the King,” Reiv continued. “He
offers you a choice, though a poor one. Anyone wishing to leave may
do so. But I know that is inconceivable to most of you, as seeking
is all you have ever known. On the other hand, if you stay, the
King will expect servitude and—” Reiv hesitated. “—worthiness.”

“So,” Yustes said grimly, “he will spare
some. But not all.”

“Yes,” Reiv conceded.

“Then we must fight back!” Lyal declared. “We
must strike the Tearians down!”

“Yes!” others cried. “We cannot sit back and
do nothing!”

“Think what you are saying!” Reiv said. “You
are ill prepared to fight the Guard. And what of the Jecta? What
happens to them?”

Tensions quickly turned to the subject of the
refugees and what could be done for them. The Jecta would be the
first ones purged, that was clear. But was there time to relocate
them, and if so, to where? Suggestions were made as to the caves in
the nearby cliffs, but transporting the infirm up a precarious path
would be nearly impossible. Perhaps the healthy could find refuge
there, but the sick and injured would have to be brought into the
village. A perimeter of spears and swords might protect Meirla for
a time, but if the Jecta were brought within its borders, the Shell
Seekers would be at risk of contracting the fever. And that would
erode any chance they had.

“We are running out of time,” Reiv said. “I
for one know what I must do: I must leave, and soon. As hard as
that will be for me, you have the more difficult choice, I think.
Stay and serve, or stay and die.”

“Or leave with us,” Brina added.

“But where would we go?” someone asked.

Yes, where
would
they go? Reiv
pondered. To the mountains? He had attempted that trek before, and
very nearly starved for it. Up the coast perhaps. No, that led to
The Black, and everything around it was still Tearian realm.
Kirador? No, not possible…they would not be welcome there. But
where else was there?

An image formed in Reiv’s mind. “The valley,”
he said, startled by the realization. “Yes…beyond the mountains—I
have seen it!”

Color drained from Yustes’s face.
“Valley?”

“Yes, Agneis showed it to me. During my
Transcension…” Reiv knitted his brows. “Or did she take me there? I
do not know for certain. All I know is the valley is real.”

“The prophecy names this place,” Yustes said,
his voice hopeful.

“Names it?” Reiv asked.

“Oonayei.”

The word, though spoken softly, echoed as if
it had been shouted across a canyon. Many faces in the crowd
brightened, while others gawked in wonder. But some scoffed at the
suggestion.

“
Oonayei
?” Lyal said. “Why, that is
nothing but a children’s tale.”

“Is it?” Yustes said. “It is named in the
Prophecy of Kalei, the one that foretold the coming of the
Transcendor who now stands before you!”

“You may lay your hopes on fables if you
wish, old man,” Lyal said. “But no prophecy determines
my
future. The gods gave me a free will, and I intend to fight for
it!”

Others who had snickered at the suggestion of
Oonayei joined him in similar sentiment.

“You are correct,” Yustes said, addressing
the skeptics. “The gods did indeed grant us free wills. But they
also gave us tools to guide our lives, and Kalei’s prophecy is one
of them. It speaks of a great migration, of a shift in the stars.
Look around you. Does the evidence not point to it?”