Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (10 page)

“Yes,” Whyn said. “Perhaps one should.”

“Now here you are,” she continued, “thrown
into a role you never wanted, forced to take on so much
responsibility in such a short time. I wish there was some way I
could ease things for you. Tell me, how can I help?”

“It would help me to know how things are with
Reiv,” Whyn said, displaying concern. “I am worried for him. Have
you heard anything?”

“Yes, I have made inquiries. You need not
worry about your brother anymore. He has found work in Pobu I hear
tell, and has finally accepted his fate. I am sure it was not easy
for him. I understand he is working for a weaver. Apparently he
does well at a loom.” Brina smiled and shook her head. “Who would
have thought it? Your brother a weaver? But as long as he is happy,
that is all that matters I suppose. I must say, I am very relieved.
When he was still living within the city walls I stressed over him
so. But now I feel I can finally let him go. It is time I focused
my attentions on you, my young King. You are the one who needs me
now.”

Whyn nodded, then cocked his head. “Reiv has
become a weaver you say? I heard tell he was a Shell Seeker.”

Brina laughed, her eyebrows raised in
surprised amusement. “Reiv? A Shell Seeker? Oh Whyn, I do not know
the source of your information, but I find it hard to imagine your
brother a Shell Seeker. Why, he would have to dive into the murky
depths of the sea, and I certainly cannot see him doing that. As a
boy he did not particularly care for swimming in a calm pool, but
amongst turbulent waves? Perhaps he is a Shell Seeker, but I would
surely love to see it if he were.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Whyn said. “Reiv
probably would prefer woman’s work at a loom to diving into the
unpredictable depths of the waters. Besides, there are snakes in
the sea, are there not? Reiv never did care for snakes.”

“No, he never cared for anything that
slithered or crawled. Poor boy. Well, hopefully the weaver’s shop
is creature-free, or they may find his work disrupted more often
than not.”

Whyn crossed over to the bed and sat. “I am
tired, Brina. Do you mind? I need a moment to rest.”

“Of course, dear. I will leave you now. Do
not worry. All will be well.” Then she left the room, closing the
door behind her.

Whyn lay with his hands behind his head and
gazed at the white plaster swirls of the ceiling. A
creak
at
the door redirected his attention. A grin spread across his
face.

“Good, she is gone,” Cinnia said crossly. She
moved over to the bed and crawled into it, curling her body next to
his. “What was she doing here?”

Whyn wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her close. “She said she came to see how I was getting on.”

“And how are you getting on, husband?”

He turned his face to hers and kissed her on
the lips. “I am getting on well since my beautiful wife brought
herself in here.”

Cinnia giggled and snuggled close. “What did
the Priestess say?”

The tone of Whyn’s voice turned grim. “She
has great plans for me, but even greater ones for my brother.”

“So it is to be done then?” Cinnia raised
herself onto an elbow and stared into his face.

“Yes, it is to be done. My mind supports it,
but I fear my whole heart does not.”

Cinnia bolted upright. “
You
are King
now! That is all that matters. People are talking, Whyn. Some
believe Reiv is still Ruairi, the Red King. That his disinheritance
was a travesty. That it is he who should sit upon the throne, not
you. You cannot quell this unrest by pretending it will go away.
You must quash it now.”

“I know, but it will be no easy task.”

“Well, it will be much easier if you rid
Tearia of the canker that has been allowed to fester this past
year! I do not wish to be Queen to a King whose legacy is
weakness.”

Her face was flushed with temper, and Whyn
looked at her with amusement. Then he pulled her back down beside
him and wrapped his arms around her once more. “Is that what you
think of me? That I am weak?” He twirled one of her long, golden
curls around his finger.

“No. I only want you to be a great King, that
is all.”

“I promise you, Cinnia, I will be. It is not
like I have not been working to solve this issue by other means.
You know I swallowed my pride at the Priestess’s command and tried
to endear my brother with apologies.
That
was a dismal
failure. Then I gave him the sword as she instructed. The Priestess
expected him to attack me with it, then the guards could have taken
care of the problem then and there. But no; he did not raise a hand
to me. The sword almost worked its magic when Reiv flaunted it at
the gate the night he brought in the thieves. But that fool Crymm,
letting him pass, then making a spectacle of everything during the
arrest the next day. Do not worry though; orders are in place. The
problem will be solved soon enough.”

“I am surprised the Priestess allowed Reiv to
live when she had her chance to be rid of him. What was she
thinking?”

“There was some discussion at the hearing of
putting him to death, but the Goddess did not wish to risk him
becoming a martyr. But now…”

“Do not let your emotions get in the way of
this, Whyn. Your whole heart must be given to Tearia, nothing
else.”

“Is that all you give your heart to?”

“You know where it lies, husband.”

Whyn laughed. “Yes, it lies here in my
bed.”

“You know you have always had it,” she said,
pressing her body close to his. “Where is the sword now? Reiv does
not still have it?”

“No, its whereabouts is a mystery. It seems
when I sent guards to retrieve it from Reiv’s apartment it had
vanished. There is no way Reiv could have taken it with him, so I
do not know how it could have disappeared. Crymm’s bunk area has
been searched, he was my first suspect, but witnesses at the time
of the arrest claim it was not with him. That is most likely true.
If Crymm had taken the sword he would have been waving it about for
all to see. I never expected to lose track of it, but do not worry.
It will turn up.”

“Well, it had better,” Cinnia said. “It is
rightfully yours.”

“Just as you are.”

Whyn brushed his lips across her cheek. She
rolled herself on top of him and moved her face close to his.
“Would you do anything for me, husband?”

“Of course. Name it.”

Her face turned deadly serious. “Then do what
the Priestess asks of you, whatever it takes to make your legacy
one that Tearia will never forget.”

“She wants much of me. How much are you
willing to share?”

Cinnia traced a finger lightly across his
lips. “How much are you willing to give?”

“All that I have,” Whyn said. “Do not fear,
wife. I will do it…for you…and for Tearia. And the first thing I
must do is eliminate a weaver.”

Whyn gathered Cinnia into his arms, his
breath quickening as his hands slid over her. Their limbs entwined.
He stared into her eyes, startled by a circle of red surrounding
the pale green of them. For a moment doubt threatened his passion.
Was he merely a replacement for the love she could no longer have?
Then he recalled what the Priestess had said:
You have her heart
as well as her body, but I have the rest of her.
Whyn smiled.
Yes, he could be satisfied with that. He covered Cinnia’s mouth
with his, sending a spasm of desire through his body. But a sudden
knock at the door startled them both, causing an unwelcome
interruption in their play.

“Be gone!” Whyn barked over Cinnia’s
shoulder.

The door swung open. “My lord, forgive me,” a
young male servant said breathlessly. “The Commander sends word
that—“

“It can wait!” Whyn shouted.

“But Sire—there is a fire—in the catacombs.
The Commander—”

Whyn pushed Cinnia off and sat up abruptly.
“Tell him I will be there momentarily.”

“Forgive me, Lord, but I think momentarily
will be too late.”

BACK TO ToC

Chapter 11: The Far Reaches

W
hyn ran from the
palace toward the temple, the shouts of servants and barking of
guards growing louder with every step he took. Lines of men passed
bucket after bucket through the outside door to the catacombs
below. Guards marched up and down the lines, goading servants to
the task with the crack of a whip.

Mahon raced toward Whyn, his face red with
sweat. “My lord,” he said, bowing quickly as he met him.

“What has happened?” Whyn demanded. He
continued toward the catacombs, not breaking his pace. Mahon
hustled at his side.

“A fire in one of the cells,” Mahon said
breathlessly. “It was well underway before we received word.”

“Which cell? Where is it located?”

“Deep within—in the farthest reaches. But I
do not understand how a fire could have started, my lord. Prisoners
are not allowed light within their cells. The only source would be
the torches on the walls, but none are within reach of the
prisoners.”

Whyn clenched his jaw and quickened his pace.
When he reached the entrance, he ordered the workers out of his way
and stormed inside.

“My lord,” Mahon said at his back. “It is too
dangerous. The fire is not yet contained.”

“Then it is your responsibility to see that
it is kept from me!” Whyn shoved past the dumbfounded servants who
paused to bow in his presence. “Order the men not to break stride,”
Whyn called back to Mahon who had ducked in behind him. “The fire
cannot be allowed to spread beyond the cell.”

Mahon nodded and motioned a guard to heed
Whyn’s command. The guard shouted at the servants, and the buckets
continued down the line with increased pace.

Whyn wound his way through the crowded
corridor, the stench of sweat and smoke filling his senses with
fear and loathing. Men leapt from his path; wide eyes darted in his
direction. Prisoners screamed and wailed as desperate hands clawed
through cell bars.

“Should we relocate the prisoners?” Mahon
asked.

“No,” Whyn replied.

A grimy hand shot out of a cell window,
grabbing hold of Whyn’s arm. Whyn gasped and jerked away, then
staggered back and stopped. The uneasy memory of his brother doing
the same thing a year before lurched to mind, as well as the
argument that had resulted because of it.

Nothing happened
, Reiv had insisted.
The foul creature grabbed my tunic, nothing more…

“You allowed yourself to be touched by a
Jecta,” Whyn whispered. “And a damaged prince cannot be prince at
all.” He glanced at his arm, fully expecting to see a mark of
contamination where the Jecta had touched him. Strangely he did
not.

Mahon shot a glance to a nearby guard,
ordering him with a silent jerk of his head to take care of the
prisoner. The guard nodded and drew his sword, then unlocked the
door and disappeared inside.

“Sire, allow me to lead you,” Mahon said,
stepping forward to round him.

“No need,” Whyn said. He waved Mahon back and
continued down the corridor. He knew the cell of destination. Even
without the line of men leading the way, Whyn would still have been
able to find it. There was only one prisoner with access to light,
and that prisoner was surrounded by piles of books and brittle
parchments.

Whyn turned off the main corridor and into a
narrower one. He was immediately stopped by a thick wall of smoke
and a crowd of coughing, retreating men.

“You will see the job done!” Whyn screamed,
shoving a servant back down the corridor.

The servant cowered for a moment, then
grabbed the nearest bucket of water and disappeared into the smoke.
Others were forced in after him, but none returned. More were sent,
until at last a few staggered out with empty buckets, gasping for
air and assuring the King the fire was dying at last. The smoke
thinned, but additional brigades were sent in.

After some time, the chaos subsided and Whyn
was left standing in the passageway, surrounded by panting,
filth-covered slaves, and Mahon, who had remained at his side.

“The fire is contained, Commander,” a guard
reported.

“We shall see,” Mahon said, brushing past the
guard toward the cell door beyond.

“No!” Whyn said. “I go in alone.”

Mahon stopped short and turned to Whyn with
confusion.

“You heard me,” Whyn said. “I go in alone.
Now, hand me a torch.”

“As you wish,” Mahon said with a quick bow.
He grabbed a torch from a nearby wall and handed it to Whyn.

Whyn strode past him and into the mucky
corridor, stepping over the tangled bodies of slaves. The air was
thick, and his lungs burned with every breath he drew. He pulled
his tunic over his nose and held it with his free hand.

Thrusting the torch through the burned-out
portal, Whyn worked to focus his watering eyes on what was left of
the cell. Even with light from the torch, all he could make out
were mounds of black and the occasional glow of a dying ember. He
stepped into the room, treading carefully on the slippery layer of
mud and ash that covered the floor. There were piles of charred
debris, most of it indiscernible, but there was one with an
unmistakable shape.

Whyn walked over and nudged it with his foot.
Chunks of burned flesh and brittle bone collapsed and smoldered at
his feet. A bellows-shaped book that lay next to it disintegrated
into a clump of residue.

Whyn took in the disarray around him and felt
fear mixed with fury. Had the fire been started by accident, caused
by Tenzy falling asleep with her precious candles lit? Or had she
found something within those pages that caused her to seek a
desperate end? He scanned the room once more, but realized there
was no hope that anything could be salvaged. If Tenzy had done this
intentionally, then her attempt to bury the truth had been a
thorough one.