Mortals & Deities (32 page)

“Aye.” Arderi eased his sword in its sheath. “And I am all a tingle to discover what
will
eat us.”

Delmith Bathooll spent the tenday his Prince had given him delving deeper into the mystery of what had happened to the Human, Alant. He spent time tracking down every book or tome he could find that even hinted about the Chi’utlan, both in public and private collections. He wasted aurns deciphering more of the runes lining the hall that led to the Chamber of the Chi’utlan. He even spoke to a decrepit Vanria who was nearly seven-hundred and fifty winters old! Yet, try as he did, he gained no insight into what might have happened to the boy.

There are simply no references to someone being crushed out of existence!

He slapped his hand onto the arm of his chair. He sat in the study of his home. Fear and worry fought for dominance over inquisitiveness and curiosity within him. On the one hand, everything he learned fascinated him. He had dug up histories and knowledge from the past that he doubted anyone on the entire Plane remembered. He did not feel he understood a tenth of what he needed, however. On the other hand, what he had gleaned only added to his questions. And if he did not have more answers than questions, he was certain that his Prince would not be happy. Mayhaps to his demise.

Did the Essence spill through the Chi’utlan from some other dimension? Why did it have a pattern, growing stronger as the millennia rolled by? Why, with a sudden upheaval of power, did it flee this Plane—fall off to a mere speck of the power it had risen to, and lay dormant for another millennia before it started the process all over again? Could Alant have been pulled through the Chi’utlan to somewhere else instead of being crushed out of existence, as it had appeared?

This last question excited him the most, though he could find no more reference to someone using the Chi’utlan as a gateway to some other Plane of existence than he could of someone being crushed out of existence. He knew of the Quay’ka’gana, of course. Or, as it was more commonly known, the Sending Stone. One sat near the center of the city. A round dais surrounded by stairs made completely from Ratave. Six fingers, made from the same black Ratave as the dais, rose from the platform to hold aloft a massive red Crystal perched at their apex. Like fingers holding the stone for all to see. Runes covered the pillars, much like those in the hall leading to the Chi’utlan. He even uncovered references about the Quay’ka’gana—amazing testaments of people coming and going by simply standing under the red stone. Yet, as far as he knew, none in living memory had used the device. None, even in this Cycle. He could find no record of how to activate it, either. He feared that knowledge, along with so much of how the Essence worked, was lost forever in time.

As always, time is the true enemy. Even for our long-lived race.

“I said, would you like some more raz?”
His mate’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Turning, Delmith stared into the deep black eyes of Melisian, concern filling them to the brim.
“I am sorry, my one. What did you say?”

Melisian pulled her lips tight and entered his study. It was a small room off the main hall that led to their sleeping chambers. A desk, two bookshelves, and two chairs filled the room, leaving little space to walk. Still, it was all Delmith needed. She turned the vacant chair to face him and sat.
“Delmith, my one. I am concerned. You have been home more these past few tendays than most of the last two winters. Yet, it is as if you are not here at all.”

Reaching out, he placed a hand upon hers.
“You are correct, as always, my one.”
He gave a heavy sigh.
“We do need to speak. And forgive me for not informing you of this before now.”
This was not how he had envisioned this conversation happening. Still, he could not let his mate continue on, oblivious to what may happen. He owed her more than that. Though he still did not wish to give voice to his concerns over his Prince, he was convinced the Blue was without a doubt insane.

Mayhaps it has to do with him being the third child born, something that is not normally done. Or mayhaps it is him being a twin, another rarity. Though, his sister Sarshia appears fine.

A slight shift of his mate’s leg brought his mind back to his task. She appeared calm, though after thirty turns of the seasons with her, he knew better. A layer of unease rested just below her composure.

“My studies with our Prince have been most gratifying. I have learned much about histories that have been forgotten.”
He paused. He was stalling, and he knew Melisian could tell by the way her thin dark lips bent down at their edges.
“Yet, my research has taken me into forbidden areas.”

Melisian cocked her tear-dropped shaped head to the side.
“I do not understand. What research is forbidden to us?”

Trying to swallow, Delmith found his throat suddenly dry.
“We found a Chi’utlan beneath the Chandril’elian—a pool of pure, Liquid Essence where this Plane connects to another. This is what I have studied these last few turns of the seasons.”

The tinkling sound of her laughter filled the room and Delmith smiled in spite of himself.
“A Chi’utlan is an interesting find. And I now understand why you have kept it a secret, even from me. Still, I do not see why this should cause you such turmoil, Delmith.”

Her words forced the smile from his face and pain lanced his heart. Why had he agreed to those damnable tests? How could he not have seen that using Humans was not only wrong, it stained the very fabric of the Elmorr’Antien people, as his Princess pointed out to him?

With his mind in chaos, he did not notice that Melisian had stopped laughing. She reached out and placed a hand against his cheek.
“There is more, is there not?”

Not trusting his voice, Delmith nodded.

“Well…”
She stood.
“…I think I will get the raz. You collect your thoughts and when I return, you can tell me.”
With that, she turned and left.

Rotating to his desk, he closed the book that had lain open and forgotten for much of the morn. Standing, he returned the book to its shelf. What was he to do? Now that the time had come, he did not feel he could admit his crimes to his mate. He had always let the prospect of learning, of gaining unknown or forgotten knowledge cloud his judgment. This had led him down a path that could very easily end with his death.

A clatter of porcelain on silver came from the hall. Turning, he reached out and took the tray from his mate. He set the tray down and poured two small cups of ice-cold raz. Handing one to Melisian, he joined her in sitting. Both remained silent as they enjoyed the drink.

Finally, their cups empty, Melisian reached out and placed a hand on Delmith’s thin knee.
“My one. Please, tell me what part of your research is troubling you so.”

Nodding his head, Delmith knew he could put this off no longer.
“My one. Please do not think less of me when you learn the truth. In the beginning, everything was so harmless. It escalated out of control, and before I could turn from what was happening, it was too late.”
He took a deep breath and set his cup down on the desk.

“As you know, the Chi’utlan is what is used to create the Mah’Sukai.”

“Yes. Every youngling knows of how they rise to power and ravage the entire Plane in war each cycle. Still, this will not happen in our lifetime. The War of Power for this Cycle should not begin for several more millennia.”
His mate paused.
“Our Prince did not try and use the Chi’utlan on you, did he?”
Fear tinged her words.

“No. Not me.”
Reaching out, Delmith took her hand in his.
“At first, our Prince enlisted me to decipher the runes that lay in a hallway adjacent to the chamber that houses the Chi’utlan. As time progressed, and I could not provide him with answers fast enough to please him, our Prince took it upon himself to move the research forward.

“Without my knowledge, he ordered his Gralet’nars to bring one of the Human Initiates down to the chamber.”

As he spoke, Melisian’s eyes widened.
“Prince Aritian created a Human Mah’Sukai?”
Fear no longer tinged her words; it filled them to the brim.

“I wish I could say no for certain. Yet, I can say that the first Initiate, a young boy from Silaway named Tilly, is not a Mah’Sukai. In fact, after he came out of the Chi’utlan, he was no different than when he went in.”

“
Wait
.” Melisian’s interruption was so abrupt that Delmith jumped.
“Tilly. The black skinned Human that attacked our Prince?”
The news that a Human had attacked a Blue—a child of the Royal House no less!—had been on the mouths of every Elmorr’Antien for moons.

“Yes, only…”
Delmith licked his lips.
“He did not attack Prince Aritian. That was a lie told to cover up the truth.”

Melisian shook her head, shifting her long white hair around her shoulders.
“I do not understand. He was seen by many. He attacked Prince Aritian in the Great Square and only the diligence of the Gralet’nars protecting our Prince stopped him.”

Delmith’s shame overtook him and he stared at the floor.
“That is what everyone was supposed to see. The entire ordeal was false, however. The Gralet’nars shoved the boy in front of our Prince with a blade in his hand, then killed him before he could react.”

A gasp escaped his mate, and Delmith glanced at her. She had covered her mouth with her hand and was pushing away from him.
“You could not have done this, Delmith! Tell me you had no part in this.”

Delmith’s heart broke at her words.
“No, my one. I did not learn of this deed until later.”
His mate relaxed a bit, though she did not remove her hand from her mouth.
“Still, in remaining silent, I am just as guilty as if I had been the one to implement the entire scheme.”
Bowing his head once more, he mumbled out the rest of his confession.
“And I have done worse since.”

Without looking back at his mate, Delmith continued.
“On three more instances over the past two turns of the seasons, I have been present when our Prince has taken a Human Initiate to the Chi’utlan.”
In his turmoil, he let the words roll from his numb tongue.
“The next was a girl named Srist. She was a lovely, blonde-haired thing. Our Prince told me to bring her blindfolded. She would enter the Chi’utlan, then once the test was complete, be sent home. It was almost her time anyway, so I thought nothing of it. Nothing had happened to the first boy. So long as she never saw what she should not, I thought things would be all right.”
A wrack of pain gripped him and he shivered.
“She was not the same when she came out of the Chi’utlan, however.”
Trying to purge the memory of her vacant eyes, he took in a shuddered breath to regain control of himself.
“Her eyes still haunt my dreams…they were as lifeless as a corpse’s.”
Despite trying to hold his composure, he sobbed.
“Her mind was…gone. Destroyed. And I had led her there by my own hand.”

“What happened to her?”
Sympathy replaced the fear in his mate’s voice.

Looking up, Delmith blinked his outer eyelids to clear his vision. Though his race shed no tears as the Humans did, their eyes did mist over when they were wracked by immense sadness.
“Prince Aritian had the girl sent home with a story of how she had broken during her final days of training. I have heard no word of her since, so I do not know of her ultimate fate.”

Falling forward, he rested his forehead upon Melisian’s chest.
“Please, my one. Please, forgive me for what I have done.”
Delmith lost himself in his sorrow and sobs shook his small frame.

With a gentle hand, his mate stroked his long white hair and uttered shushing sounds. It was the most intimate they had been since their joining, and it felt both strange and comforting. He had often admired how free Humans were with their emotions. How much they enjoyed the touch of one another. Pressed against Melisian’s chest, he thought he understood now.

“There were others, yes?”
Her words came strong, yet not unkind.

Nodding his head, he did not remove it from where it lay. To his delight, his mate did not stop stroking his hair.
“Yes. Two others. One, Quiln, met with the same fate as Srist. He too was sent home with the excuse he had broken. The latest was the Human boy, Alant. He…”
His voice failed him. How could he tell her of the horrors he had witnessed? The horrors that had occurred in part by his participation!

Pushing him up, Melisian stared into his eyes.
“Expired?”

He could not give the true event voice, so he simply nodded.
“Even with all the tragedy that has taken place, our Prince still insists on continuing with his experiments.”

“Why? What is his ultimate goal?”

“He has aspirations of becoming the first Elmorr’Antien to hold the power of a Mah’Sukai.”
Raising a hand to forestall her, he continued in a rush.
“Although, I am no longer certain this is possible. I fear the reason there is no mention of one of our race stepping into a Chi’utlan is that none who have done so survived. The writings are old and in a language even the eldest of our race has forgotten. Still, I think they are a warning.”