Page 14 of The Eye of the Fifth
A forced, humourless laugh escaped Orro. ‘You would have killed me either way, Your Grace. The manner of this meeting makes no difference.’
Empress Azar paused for a moment. ‘Is that what Naal would have done?’ Orro didn’t answer, and she smiled triumphantly. ‘Then I am no different to your beloved Air Warden.’
The guards grabbed Orro’s arms as he surged forward, spit flying from his mouth as he hissed, ‘You are a stain upon Droria! Naal is the light that will wipe your darkness from the world.’
‘Poetic,’ the Empress said softly. There were a few sniggers around the room. ‘Truly poetic,Eternal Myrso. Though I’m afraid poetry will not be enough to save you.’
She nodded to the guards holding Orro, and they shoved him to his knees.
There was no sniggering now, not as thick black tendrils of smoke began to swirl around her fingers. A rare, dark power that very few dared to wield. ‘I know what it is you seek,Eternal Myrso.But I am afraid that Naal Westerra will have to come claim it herself.’
Empress Azar rose from the throne, the flames that had just shrouded her guttering instantaneously. She descended the great stone steps and stopped before the akee male. ‘I am sorry, Orro. To waste such a long, rich life seems like an offence. But an empire does not remain as such without eliminating its adversaries.’
Orro smiled then, and it was true. ‘It is you I am sorry for, Your Grace. When you meet your end, and youwill,I do not imagine the Four will welcome you with open arms. I, however, will be glad to meet Gallena in the next life.’
The Empress’ tendrils thickened and spread up her arms, like snakes waiting impatiently to strike. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper. Gedeon strained to hear her next words: ‘When you meet your beloved Air Mother, tell her the end is nigh. The Four are finished. If that is indeed the truth you sought by coming here, then let your false Goddess have it.’
Orro started laughing, but it was short-lived as the Empress’ fingers flicked forward, her smoke obeying her command and forcing itself down his throat. It choked him from the inside out, his face turning red as the foreign entity strangled his lungs. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath that would not come, and the room watched his demise in complete silence, the sounds of his sputtering echoing all around.
In less than a minute, Orro Myrso was dead, eyes wide and bloodshot yet unseeing.
The smoky tendrils withdrew back to their master, disappearing into the ether whence they came. The Empress emotionlessly addressed the guards, ‘Cut off his head and send it to Naal Westerra. Throw his body in the Emor.’ She turned her back on them and said to no one in particular, ‘That will be all. Leave me.’
Council members moved at once, feet shuffling to the nearest exit. The sentries followed, Sunsi at the rear, until it was just Gedeon and Sekun. Guards dragged the Eternal’s corpse from the Throne Room, smoke still wisping from his nose and mouth.
Gedeon turned away. He was no stranger to death, nor to his mother’s power, for he had seen her wield it a thousand times over. Yet each time he witnessed it, an involuntary chill skittered up his spine.
Gedeon began to sketch a bow to his queen, hoping the dismissal was meant for him too, but she held up a hand. ‘You both will stay. There are further things to consider, and there is no one I trust more to discuss them with than my sons.’
So it was to be another long night, stuck in this claustrophobic room, but Gedeon smiled at his mother, his queen, and swallowed the thought.
Duty above all else.
Chapter Five
A Cornered Wolf
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Avaldale, Vrethian.
Kyra.
Someone was singing. Or was it crying? It was not in a language Kyra understood, nor was it a particularly pretty sound to listen to.
It was strangely captivating. A raw, unfamiliar song from the mouth of an ethereal being, though she could not see who or what the voice belonged to. On it crooned its melancholy lament, and still she listened intently, for she knew it was meant for her.
The minor scales that climbed and fell like a wave, the pain in the throaty voice… a warning.
It began to pull away, and Kyra wanted to run after it, to demand its meaning, but she had no legs to run on. Nor a body to move.
As the voice became a distant echo in her mind, she heard something else. Tiny claws scratching on a floorboard. Laughing conversation from behind a wall. Hooves on a cobbled street.
The further away the enchanting voice became, the more solid Kyra felt. Heavy and real.
And hurting.
From head to toe, she ached, as though all her bones had been broken and then fused back together none too gently.
