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Within the shadowed columns of the blue marble tomb house, Nikaros checked his stance and the king’s, ensuring they and their bows and arrows were held back far enough that Siyrsun wouldn’t notice them from below the steps.
Opposite Nik Lije craned briefly to peer outside at the bowed, sobbing Araine and the weeping, almost prostrate Lady Dasarai. Hiding himself again he grinned, his smile bright in his lean, tawny face. “Anyone would truly believe they’re in deepest mourning. It’s amazing!”
Beside him Josias muttered, “Hush! Be amazed when we survive this!”
Bel-Tygeon didn’t smile. His tension and distress betrayed themselves in the set of his shoulders, his knuckles tensed over his bow, and the fistful of arrows—and in the way he flicked wary, watchful glances toward his sister and Araine.
Did he truly love Araine? Nik prayed so. Or at least he tried to pray. Yet his warrior-Eosyth core rebelled, longing to kill anyone who so much as touched Araine—even the king.
Lurking just within the entry, Commander Vioc retreated to the shadows and lifted a warning hand, requesting absolute stillness. They all withdrew behind the interior columns. From a distance Nik heard the muted clinking of metal, weapons carried by armed soldiers. Obviously the Old Dreki Siyrsun had invaded the palace with his own men.
Mighty One, save Araine and the Lady Dasarai!
***
STILL BOWED BESIDE Dasarai Araine wiped her wet face and listened.
A man’s low, abrupt voice snapped an indecipherable command. Other men’s trained voices answered in sharp unison, accompanied by the stomping of booted feet and the clattering of metal—chain-mail, plated armor, and weapons.
She lifted her head and peeked toward the entrance to the clearing. Siyrsun!
His sword gleaming even in the grayed dimness cast by overshadowing clouds and backed by a small cadre of guards, Lord-General Siyrsun seemed formidable. His powerful battle-scarred face was wary yet sneering, as if self-certain triumph drove his steps. Shuddering Araine lowered her head again, hiding beneath her own tumbled hair as she stared down at the dulled vinewood branch.
My Creator, he’s brought soldiers as we feared. I beg You to protect us, as only You can. Guard Nikaros! Dear Nikaros... And the king.
Her shivering deepened as her Creator sent her a warning thought-thread. Siyrsun’s thoughts—and horrible to comprehend.
My own Father, without You, I am dead, as is the king!
On the pavings the branch shimmered to gleaming life.
Beside Araine Dasarai gasped softly.
Her movement concealed beneath her own flowing hair, Araine took hold of the prophet’s branch and whispered, “Lady, I beg you to remain still. Pray our mourning remains pretense.” Infinite? Be with me! Strengthen me!
My Child of Dust, I am here.
Closing her eyes she could almost see Him watching, His Spirit encircling her and Dasarai, prepared to fulfill His plans. Her breathlessness eased, and the prophet’s branch flashed like fiery white metal just as Siyrsun bellowed, “Prophet! Do you think I didn’t see you? How pathetic a soldier you deem me if I’ve failed to notice Belaal’s enemy!”
Araine lifted her head and exhaled shakily. As the proud general approached, she raised her voice. “General, hear me....”
Silent he looked her in the eyes and flourished his sword. Gasping Araine raised the branch and received his blow, feeling nothing as his killing blade snapped across the branch. The sword’s lethal edge hurtled past Araine’s head and clanged against the marble steps behind her.
Siyrsun sucked in an audible breath, flung aside the haft of his broken sword, and snatched for the branch. His fingers sizzled, passing through the burning celestial metal forged in the Infinite’s realm. From the trees rimming the clearing, a sudden torrent of arrows hissed through the air, followed by another, felling the general’s men in a deadly, relentless, well-trained tide.
She dared not look away from the general, but tears stung her eyes and slid down her face as she perceived his men’s deaths. All lost souls. Araine swallowed. “General, why did you lead these men to such futile, senseless deaths! You were spared only at your king’s command, so surrender now before an arrow takes you down!”
His mouth crimped tight he lifted his bare seared hands, his glare steady and relentless. She recognized it as the look of a man prepared to kill her. Moving gently Araine stood. Raising her voice so Bel-Tygeon could hear, Araine asked, “General, I’ve asked you this before. What do mortals often do when they believe their god has failed?”
“I am sure you will presume to speak for me.”
“Lord-General, you have already answered with your rebellion. But what if mortals only believe their Creator has failed?” She paused. “What if mortals are wrong?”
One corner of Siyrsun’s mouth lifted in a sneer, and he stepped nearer, his big fingers curving, reaching toward her like talons. Just as she braced herself against his strike, Siyrsun’s gaze flickered.
Commander Vioc’s men, bows and arrows still readied, filtered from the woods and quietly ringed the clearing. From behind Araine many booted footsteps echoed swift and harsh on the royal tomb house’s marble landing. Bel-Tygeon called out, “Answer her, Siyrsun! What if mortals are wrong?”
Araine gasped, cringing inwardly. Oh-no, he’d ignored her warning! Fighting down a wail, not daring to turn, she pleaded, “Sire, I beg you to say nothing more! For your own sake, order this rebel’s death and be done with him, as the Infinite warns!”
Fury chilled the king’s tone—and horrible, undeniable, soul-condemning arrogance. “I have commanded him to answer your question, Prophet. My order stands.”
Is he not Belaal’s god-king? The Infinite murmured to Araine. Retreat and wait.
She must obey. Leave Bel-Tygeon to his self-created disaster. Biting her lip and still watching the general, Araine stooped and offered one hand to Dasarai. Belaal’s princess hesitated then accepted Araine’s help and stood, whispering, “Prophet, what is amiss?”
Everything. Everything was amiss indeed, and she couldn’t even speak to tell Dasarai; she’d sob like a bereft child if she tried. Quietly Araine led Dasarai in a retreat from Siyrsun, stopping at a somewhat safer distance to watch the scene play out. She could see Siyrsun watching her as if suspecting a trap. Unfortunately she had no trap. No weapons. Only prayers for the protection of those who loved the Infinite.
Nikaros descended the blue marble steps, one pace behind the king. Lije and Josias followed him warily, eyeing Bel-Tygeon, who was speaking again. “Answer, General! What if mortals are wrong? What if you are wrong, master-traitor?”
The general’s nostrils flared, and his sneer deepened to hatred. “How am I a traitor when you have failed us all? My family has served Belaal’s gods for generations, and you’ve repaid us by abandoning everything my fathers and your fathers sacrificed themselves to preserve!”
“Have I?” Bel-Tygeon’s sneer now matched Siyrsun’s. “Or do you merely believe I’ve failed? Haven’t you deceived yourself instead? Thus, by believing I’ve failed, you excuse your own betrayal and your plans to usurp my throne!”
“No!” Siyrsun’s blunt, scarred face mottled almost purple with fury. “All my actions have been for Belaal and for the memories of your lord-fathers, whom I worship!”
“Is your faith so true, General? Has it ever been true?”
“It was!”
“Not if you are standing here!” His eyes dark and wide as a hawk’s, Bel-Tygeon stared down at the general. “Were you ever my servant as you swore?”
“I was!” Siyrsun flashed a glance at Araine as he snarled. “And I would not be here if you had not betrayed your country by failing us by following her!”
Bel-Tygeon’s fine dark eyes glittered, and his lean face tensed with barely controlled rage. “She is my slave! Mine to do with as I please, to love or to kill! I rule her; she does not rule me. I have not changed! I have ever sought to strengthen Belaal and to establish an empire. And you, Siyrsun... I’ve granted you abundant power as my right hand, my general who would serve me to conquer Belaal’s enemies. You have betrayed your place, but I am yet Belaal’s god!”
Belaal’s god? Araine flinched. Infinite? Why couldn’t he have listened?
Be still. Be silent. Let him reveal his true soul.
She obeyed, but she couldn’t help her tears.
Beside her Dasarai exhaled and lifted her chin. And she smiled, clearly proud of her god-king as Bel-Tygeon continued. His rage growing, he gestured toward Siyrsun, an offering motion, his long hands resembling powerful, upturned claws. “And if I have not changed while you have, General, then everything you’ve ever said in my courts has been a lie!”
“No.” Flat-toned the general protested. “I have been as loyal as my fathers, Sire. I—”
“Prove it here and now on that black slab!” Bel-Tygeon wrenched a sheathed dagger from his belt and flung it at the general’s feet. Even as it clattered over the paving, he cried, “Sacrifice yourself to me, your god!”
The instant the command left Bel-Tygeon’s lips, he looked toward Araine, stricken. Then Araine saw...nothing.
The king’s expressive dark eyes turned blank and flat as all mortal knowledge vanished. No soul’s light remained within his gaze. No revelation of a conscience, nothing of the king.
See what this god’s pride has created. The Infinite opened Bel-Tygeon’s inner self to Araine, revealing only feral reactions. Flashes of wariness. Fear. The impulse to flee, to escape with all speed.
Araine sobbed. “Oh, no! He’s truly gone!”
Her outcry startled Bel-Tygeon, and he fled toward the wilderness like a beast pursued.
Around them everyone froze, clearly trying to comprehend what had just happened. Siyrsun reacted first. He swooped down, snatched the dagger, and chased after the king with a stunning burst of speed. Vioc sent a squad of soldiers running after Siyrsun and the king. Followed by Josias and Lije, Nikaros clattered down the tomb’s steps, all three releasing flights of arrows against Siyrsun’s guards.
Nikaros yelled, “Araine, bring the princess here!”
As Araine sped the princess toward the tomb, away from Siyrsun’s beleaguered guards, Dasarai screamed, “Save the king!”
Vioc signaled to his men at the edges of the manicured clearing. The archers lifted their bows and set their arrows then took down the last of Siyrsun’s guards, who’d turned to flee. Accompanied by Josias and Lije, Nik sprinted across the corpse-strewn clearing. Commander Vioc called to another company of soldiers, “Scour the woods! Capture Siyrsun, dead or alive! The remainder must guard the Lady Dasarai!”
Dasarai rapped Araine’s shoulder with her fan then started toward the small wilderness. “Come with me. We must find the king!”
“No, Lady, please.” Ignoring all etiquette Araine dashed in front of Belaal’s princess and blocked her way. “If you enter the wilderness, you might be mistakenly wounded or even captured by Siyrsun. Furthermore you will not find your god-king. Yet he would insist that I protect you, and so I will!”
“The king is first,” Dasarai argued. “His safety takes precedence above all, and you are his prophet; you must obey me!”
“I’m to protect you, just as the son of Lord Levos and Commander Vioc now protect the king with their very lives. You won’t find more honorable guardsmen, Lady. For your sake and theirs, you must stay here.”
In obvious agreement Vioc’s guards stepped into Dasarai’s path. The princess flung down her fan, then waved Araine off, too furious to speak.
Araine sighed, rubbed away fresh tears, and surveyed the clearing. Fatigue swathed her now, weighing her thoughts and steps. Goodness, she felt...tottery. Older than Grumps—dear Grumps. Even the prophet’s branch looked old now, a veritable relic, time-bleached ancient wood. Yet it sustained her as she crept forward, leaving Dasarai to mourn.
Beloved Creator, console her. Let her hear You. Guide Nikaros’ steps. Let him protect the king from Siyrsun. Show us both what we must do.
Slowly Araine returned to the rebel’s shrouded body and knelt. The bejeweled box glittered at her from its resting place atop the corpse, and Araine retrieved the treasure, her very soul feeling bruised. Why hadn’t the king listened? Let him survive!
Yet if he returned would Bel-Tygeon’s summons apply to her in fourteen hours? If so then—Infinite spare her!—she’d be forced to rebel against Bel-Tygeon, no matter how attractive, persuasive, or threatening he might be...poor mortal man.
Remembering the king, his tormented expression just before his soul vanished from behind his beautiful, perfect features, Araine whimpered. “Infinite, this isn’t what I wished for him, even if I am only his slave. Why wouldn’t he pay heed?”
The Infinite’s response seemed as sorrow-weighed as she felt. Too often My Children of Dust are so skilled at doing wrong, so inexperienced at doing right. As fresh tears slid down her face, He murmured, sounding for all of creation like an aggrieved father, They do not understand Me.
She sniffled and agreed in silence. Indeed they don’t, dear Father. Not in the least!
Gentle footsteps interrupted her commiseration. Garments billowing Dasarai sank down beside her, delicate as ever though her movements seemed careworn and tears brimmed, sparkling on her lashes. As if fearing their guards would hear, the princess whispered, “Prophet, tell me the truth as you’ve sworn. Did I see aright—that my lord-king has...lost all reason?”
Araine’s throat tightened as she remembered Bel-Tygeon’s stricken expression. “Yes, Lady. You saw aright. He’s now mindless, a beast of instinct.”
“Did your Infinite curse him?”
“No, Lady.” Araine drooped, fresh tears sliding down her face. “He’s trying to reach Bel-Tygeon. To save him and Belaal. Pray the king finally listens and agrees when reason returns. If he does then everything he’s lost will be restored. Think of the throne room’s floor, Lady. Though it was broken now it’s more glorious than ever.”
“Can it be so simple?”
“Yes, Lady, it can and is. You’ve seen the Infinite’s works. You know He will do as He says.”
Dasarai shook her head. “I do not understand your Infinite.”
How could she possibly almost laugh? Now of all times? “Lady, He understands you completely. If you wish to understand Him, then seek Him sincerely and talk to Him. He waits for you—and for His equally beloved Child of Dust, Bel-Tygeon.”
At that moment, sent by the Infinite, Siyrsun’s words, his plans from his very mind, Siyrsun’s own voice, rasped within Araine’s thoughts. I’ll kill this souless god, seize his sister, and take the throne!
Araine gasped and bowed, slave to owner. “Lady, I beg you, let your slave-prophet and guards lead you from the garden. Siyrsun plans to seize you and the throne!”
After he kills Bel-Tygeon.
She couldn’t bring herself to add that part to her words for Dasarai.
***
ENCLOSED BY THE WILDERNESS, with Josias and Lije at his right, Nikaros scanned the tangles of vines and the thick undergrowth, listening with all his might, his senses turned toward finding and killing Siyrsun before Siyrsun killed the king. Where was the man?
Mighty one, shield me, and guide my steps toward his!
Lifting his bow Nik forged deeper into the woods.