Mortals & Deities (35 page)

Glancing over his shoulder at the Gralet’nar lumbering along in his wake, Delmith Bathooll tried not to let its ugliness destroy the beauty that surrounded him. The White City, as many called Hath’oolan, the capital city of the Isle of Elmorr’eth. He did not think a more appropriate name existed. Pristine white stone, all pulled from the natural bedrock of the island by members of his race long ago. They were Elmorr’Antiens who held a mastery over the Essence undreamed of by modern standards.

I am still amazed that we call this the “modern times.” Yet, the more I dig into our history, the more I discover how powerful our ancestors were.

Until his recent studies, like the rest of his race, he paid little attention to the city itself. And why should he? Hath’oolan had stood unchallenged for tens of thousands of winters. It had changed, of course. The stone melder’s guild still held the knowledge of how to manipulate the white building material and reshape it for new purposes. Demolishing one building and using the material to create another. It was the actual creation of the stone itself that had been lost.

Prince Aritian strolled along several paces in front of Delmith. Anyone who saw him bowed their heads in respect. Aritian either did not see, or did not care enough to acknowledge them.

How is it that I ever envied him? He is so…arrogant!

It was a rhetorical question, even if asked only in his mind. Prince Aritian was the epitome of what a Blue should be. He stood tall and thin, and until recently had always remained well composed. This last few turns of the seasons was when the change in him had manifested itself.

It was odd to think about his Prince as changed. Always, Delmith had been the proper Gray and never thought of any Blue in a negative way. Now, watching Aritian’s haughty gait, Delmith could not help noticing the flaws.

Mayhaps there is merit to my mate’s speculations about how we Grays are ruled. I might have to attend one of her “meetings” she always tries to drag me to after all.

Before he had hoped, they stepped onto the Boulevard of the Essence that ended at the Chandril’elian. Ahead, he saw the Chandril’chi tree. Its black bark, looking so much like burnt flesh, wrapped limbs that twisted as they reached into the sky. Many of its blood-red leaves had fallen now that the weather had chilled. He watched one leaf separate from its branch and float down. When it touched the ground it fell apart, turning into the red sand surrounding the tree. The particles of red sand swirled, adding themselves to the pattern that covered the area. It was so subtle, had he not been watching it, he would not have seen it happen.

No one knew why the leaves acted thus. As a student of the Chandril’elian, he had never given much thought to the red sand surrounding the tree. He, like the rest of his fellow students, assumed it was just another thing the groundskeepers did—like sculpting the bushes in the garden. When he started teaching at the Chandril’elian some seventy winters gone, he had been fascinated to learn that no one maintained the ground around the tree. That the fallen leaves themselves created the patterns in the sand—changing and melding as the moons rolled by.

When he learned this, he felt certain they held some well-guarded secret. For several turns of the seasons, he studied the patterns. In his office, he kept scores of detailed drawings. Yet, even after all the time he spent studying the tree, he had not made one single discovery. Not one hint of how the patterns in the sand were created, or why.

Delmith frowned and glared at Aritian’s back.

My inquisitiveness is what got me into this current mess. I am such a fool!

Walking past the tree, he followed his Prince up the stairs and through the double doors of the building proper. They did not pause nor take any detours. Instead, they marched directly down the long hallway, passing classrooms, the kitchens, the Human Quarters, and more classrooms on their way to the garden area. Down the crushed white stone path they went, entering the hedge maze. A few twists and turns later and Delmith found himself at the foot of the white stone statue that duplicated the black-barked, red-leafed tree sitting in front of the school.

Without pause, Aritian stepped up to the base of the statue and placed his hands on the two spots that allowed him to activate the hidden door. Stepping back as the door melted away, he motioned for the Gralet’nar to enter the stairway. He held out his hand and a glowball flared to life. Pivoting, he followed his Warrior Servant.

Delmith stood alone. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked between the tall hedge walls that formed the exit that led out of the maze. He could run, yet where would he go? And if he did run, what would become of his mate, Melisian? His Prince would not spare her, Delmith was certain of that.

The light cast by Aritian’s glowball disappeared, yet Delmith still did not move. He stared down the now dark stairwell. With a heavy sigh, he stepped onto the only path available to him—the one that followed his Prince. When he reached the bottom of the spiral stairway, his stomach lurched. Three Humans stood against the far wall, rough burlap sacks tied over their heads, their hands secured behind their backs with rope. All three wore plain brown clothes common to any sailor. A Gralet’nar must have been down here guarding them, for now there were two of the hideous creatures. In the closed confines of the hallway, the Warrior Servant’s smelly hide armor filled Delmith’s nostrils.

His Prince stood a short way down the hall.
“It is about time you decided to catch up. I almost sent a Gralet after you.”

“Forgive me, my Prince. I—”

“I hear you speaking. Or singing. Or whatever that noise is.” A Human spoke through his sack, fear filling his voice. “Please. Whatever it is you want, you shall have it.” The middle of the three Humans shuffled forward. “We are all members of the Shapers Order. Setting us free will go a long way to—”

At a nod from Aritian, one of the Gralets stepped forward and backhanded the man, cutting off his sentence and sending him sprawling to the floor. He twisted to the side, keeping his face from taking the full brunt of the fall. Still, with his hands tied behind his back, the man hit hard and lay gasping for breath.

Pointing at the fallen Human, Prince Aritian sneered.
“Pick that up and bring it. He has just volunteered for this eve’s test.”
He spun and started down the corridor at a brisk pace.

Without a pause, the hulking Warrior Servant trudged over, grabbed the upper arm of the man and pulled him to his feet. Then, half dragging the poor Shaper, the Gralet followed after Aritian.

The other Gralet’nar stood behind the two remaining Humans. Delmith wondered how terrified they must be after almost a moon in the hold of a ship, not knowing where they were headed. Then, being kept for the last tenday who knew where.

I cannot fathom the fear they must be feeling.

He looked down the hall at the back of the retreating Prince. Now that he thought on it, he figured he knew exactly what the Humans were feeling.

You are feeling the same sense of dread that I am.

“Come along, Delmith. Do not dawdle now!”
His Prince’s voice echoed through the hall.

Knowing he dare not stall any longer, Delmith walked down the hallway toward the Chamber of the Chi’utlan.

By the time he reached the set of large Ratave doors decorated with the inlay of the Chandril’chi tree, they stood open. Stepping into the oval chamber, he descended the few stairs and joined his Prince. The Human Shaper still had the hood tied over his head, though he had stopped whimpering. Instead, he stood shivering, as if he knew this was his final destination.

As it always did, the Chi’utlan filled Delmith with such wonder he almost forgot his troubles. A large round dais surrounded by connected stalactite-stalagmite columns sat in the center of the room. The flat surface of the raised platform was covered in a thin sheen of Liquid Essence. The concaved bowl of a ceiling directly above the platform sat full. A bead of Liquid Essence had formed on the dais. Its weight became too much to keep it down, and it fell up into the pool. Small ripples radiated out when it struck. Though he had seen the same happen thousands of times now, the sight still amazed him.

“You feel it, do you not, Delmith?”
Aritian’s words pulled Delmith from his wonder.

Glancing at the face of Aritian, Delmith noted his Prince stared at the pool much the same as Delmith had his first time in the chamber.
“Feel what, my Prince?”

“The Chi’utlan…it seems…different. Pulsating. Calling out. Yes! This is something new.”
Spinning, the Prince grabbed Delmith by the arm.
“You can feel it, yes? Feel the pull?”

Delmith felt nothing more now than on any other occasion he had been in this room. Yet, the look in his Prince’s eyes told him he should not admit this.
“Of…course, my Prince.”
The look in those deep, black eyes was madness.

A gleam filled Aritian’s expression at Delmith’s words.
“Yes!”
He turned his face back to the pool.
“The Chi’utlan is ready. I know it! This time, Delmith. This time we shall succeed!”

Glancing at the Human captive cowering in his hood, Delmith’s heart felt as if it would rip in twain. Could he let this happen again? Could he just stand by and do nothing? A protest budded on his lips. Yet, what could he do?

My Prince has gone insane. There is no pulse, no pull. The Chi’utlan is as it always was.

With a wave of the hand, Aritian gestured to the Human and the Gralet’nar took hold of him again.
“Take the Human to the edge of the pool and cast him in.”
The Warrior Servant nodded and turned toward the dais. When he reached the stairs, Aritian called out to it.
“Careful! Do not cross the edge of the pool yourself, however. I am not sure what it will do to one of your kind.”

The Prince’s words gave the hulking creature pause. It almost looked frightened, and hesitated at the bottom of the steps leading to the platform.

Impatience filled Aritian’s demeanor, and he stepped forward.
“What are you—”

“Delmith!”
The scream from behind startled his Prince. The two turned as one, yet Delmith did not think Aritian could have been more shocked than he was. Standing at the top of the stairs stood Melisian. Her thin chest rising and falling rapidly, as if she had been running.
“Delmith, what is this place?”
She stared at the Chi’utlan, her mouth open in awe.

“It was you!”

Stars filled Delmith’s vision as pain laced through his head. He pitched forward, stumbling, yet keeping his feet. Something struck him a second time and forced him to the ground. Rolling to his back, he looked up into the hate-filled eyes of his Prince.

“You are my Tak’ju’nar!”
Aritian shook his fist at him.

Delmith could not believe Aritian had struck him. Never before had he heard of one Elmorr’Antien physically striking another. Yet, Prince Aritian stood there with his three fingers balled into a fist. A fist that showed bright blue blood smeared across its knuckles. Delmith opened his mouth to speak, then scrambled back toward the wall as Aritian stepped forward.

His Prince was stopped short by Melisian rushing forward to hover over Delmith. Kneeling down, she put her hand on the back of his head, causing him to wince in pain.

Aritian looked from Melisian to Delmith, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his eyes full of hate.
“I thought the two of you acted strange during my visit. I was wise to force you to follow me.”
He narrowed his eyes, accentuating the deadly glint in them.
“It seems you two are not as wise. Gralet! Leave the Human.”
Raising a hand, he pointed at the pair.
“Kill these Tak’ju’nars!”

Delmith watched in horror as the hulking warrior shoved the Human to the ground beside the dais. Pulling its large curved blade from its scabbard, it advanced. Melisian clutched Delmith’s shoulders, reminding him that she was there. Turning, he pushed her hands from him.
“Go, my one. Run.”
Standing, he turned to face the Gralet’nar. He felt his mate still behind him. Without turning his head, he pleaded with her.
“Please, my one. This is my doing. At least let my death save you. Please, run.”
He wanted to yell the last words, yet with the large warrior advancing on him, his voice failed. He heard her feet shuffle backward. Trembling, he stood his ground. He had never raised a hand in anger, and had no idea how to even stand and defend himself. He only hoped he would live long enough to give his mate time to escape.

The Gralet’nar raised the thick blade into the air. Its chest muscles flexing, it took one last step to close the distance. When the weapon reached its apex, the creature paused, looking past Delmith.

“What are you waiting for? Kill that Tak’ju’nar!”
Spittle flew from Aritian’s mouth as he screamed.

“He is waiting for me, little brother.”
Sarshia glided up next to Delmith and held out her hand.
“As Princess, only our brother and father outrank me where the Gralet’nars are concerned.”
She tilted her head to look at Aritian.
“Or, have you lost the knowledge of our laws along with your sanity?”