Chapter 48

“Follow me, please.” King Dharos had asked and she had agreed.

The hundreds of curious looks following her every step as they passed through the White Citadel’s courtyard made Sybelien regret her decision. They crossed the entrance hall of the Citadel, walked along a broad, straight corridor and halted in front of tall double doors. The doors were closed and Dharos called for two guards to open them. The two men unlocked and then laboriously opened the heavy doors.

“The throne room of the Alorian Empire,” Dharos disclosed, guiding Sybelien into the vast space opening up before them. “No one has entered the room since I conquered Katerra. It was here, almost four decades ago, where I saw your mother for the first time.”

The King ordered the guards to find and send his manservant to him while Sybelien silently walked toward the dais at the end of the vast hall, her steps leaving footprints in the dust coating the stone floor. Upon the dais stood a small, plain stool made of granite.

“Your mother once told me it’s a very uncomfortable seat,” Dharos mentioned. “She usually placed a cushion on the throne to sit upon.”

Sybelien looked up to the three at least twenty-foot-tall marble statues towering behind the little stool.

“The three patron deities of the Alorian Empire,” the old King introduced, following her gaze. “Mantia, goddess of rivers and streams - Walena, guardian of the Eternal Wellspring - and Injaramosh, the protector.”

“These three and the other statues of Alorian gods along the walls of the room have to disappear before I’ll ever sit on that throne,” Sybelien announced.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Dharos replied.

“What’s there to talk about?” Sybelien spat. “The Alorian Empire died two decades ago - just like my mother and sisters. These statues should have been taken to the Marble Cemetery along with the bodies of my murdered family. Although I doubt they would have been any better in guarding the corpses than they were in protecting the living. Anyway, now it’s too late. The crypt, all the temples - the whole damned hill is gone, as well. So finally throw these statues away; they never served a purpose.”

“You are young and I am old,” the King asserted, “so you’ll have to endure a history lesson. The Alorian Empire existed across the millennia while all other kingdoms of that age have not even left behind so much as a memory. I don’t know whether a pact between your family and the Alorian gods kept the Empire alive or if solely your ancestors’ superior ability to rule protected the Empire against the ravages of time. What I do know is the day the Yorak raided Katerra there was no pact between the Alorian priesthood and Callandrea, your mother. If there ever was a pact, that pact had been broken long before that day. The Alorian priesthood accused your mother of betraying her faith since a priest didn’t father your sister, Valerien.”

Sybelien regarded the old King with a cold gaze out of her currently rather ice-blue eye. “According to legend, every Alorian Empress, the same as my mother, was a priestess and as a priestess she was espoused to her gods. The Alorian priesthood may think differently about it - but a priest is no god.”

Dharos met Sybelien’s frosty glare with calm acceptance. “That’s exactly what your mother said as well. Callandrea refused the Alorian priesthood and chose the father of her children herself. I am certain the priesthood staged the raid of the Yorak as their retribution for your mother’s alleged betrayal. The day Katerra was raided and your family murdered was the day your sister, Valerien, should’ve been ordained a priestess of the Alorian gods.”

“Why do you tell me all this?” Sybelien asked in a chilly tone. “And how come you know so much about my mother and my family?”

“Your mother herself told me her secret,” Dharos answered but lost his calm and there was a tremble in his voice as he continued, “I swore Callandrea to never reveal anything of it to anyone outside the family - but you are family ... my fam-”

“I know people regarded my mother a great Empress,” Sybelien interrupted, even frostier than before. “I only remember her from my dreams and in my dreams, she is a victim. I often dream of that night two decades ago and in these dreams, my mother and sisters are still alive. My mother had given birth to me two months ago and Valerien was sixteen, the oldest of my sisters. The twins, Thessaya and Antioda, weren’t even twelve years old, and Heleyna had just become ten. I see my mother and sisters raped by dozens of men - again and again. I see them getting murdered and I see the relief in their eyes when they finally die. I was a victim, too, that night. I lost my family but I survived and I never want to be a victim again.”

The old King hung his head. “My son also died that night,” he whispered.

“I’m going to have to disappoint you, old man, if you expected me to embrace my new-found grandpa and cry in your arms for the father I never knew. In my dreams, I’ve seen everything that happened but I’ve never seen your son.”

Sybelien took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them and looked at the King again, the ice was gone but there was no warmth, either.

“I apologize, your Majesty. I am truly sorry for your loss but your son who died that night was not my father. In this world, I never had a father.”

After she said that, Sybelien turned and left the throne room.

“Is everything alright, your Majesty,” Habsun asked, leaving the shadows when she was gone.

Dharos requited his old manservant’s question with a weary smile. “If I ever would’ve had any doubts, I now would be certain this young lady truly is Callandrea’s daughter,” he answered. “The statues of the Alorian gods need to be removed from the throne hall. Better yet, remove all of them from everywhere within the Citadel. Furthermore, I need you to prepare many quarters for the guests I’m expecting - nobles, a prince and several princesses, as well as a queen ... maybe even a god.”

“Certainly, your Majesty,” Habsun replied. “Will that be all?”

The King shrugged.

“Only a god may know what else I’d need to do but he didn’t tell me anything.”

In front of the White Citadel, about a thousand mercenaries were surrounded by twice as many risen dead and the fighting had come to an end.

“Who is this man surrendering to Evanis?” Shinta asked.

“Urgon En’Arros, Second Commander of the Forsaken Army,” Kuwasi answered.

“Why didn’t she kill him like all the others?”

“Maybe she let him live because he once saved her life as well,” Kuwasi surmised. “Eva hates being indebted to a man - which you certainly can imagine.”

“Yes, I can imagine - since I know how most men would try to collect a debt from a woman like Eva. Did you ever save her life?”

“Yes,” the big man curtly answered.

“And?” Shinta asked with a raised brow.

“She laughed at me and we became friends,” Kuwasi grumbled.

“You’re a sleazebag,” Shinta judged. “Then again, you are a man so a shabby morality is not too surprising and at least you’re honest. I guess that’s why Eva forgave you and I think I will too.”

“That’s very clement; thank you,” Kuwasi replied, looking past her. “But we better go now and quickly find some clothes for Eva. Our allies are coming and I doubt all of them are as lenient as you when it comes to decency and morality.”

“Hold’em up somehow,” Shinta quickly decided. “I’ll run and warn Eva!”

Inandrey was the first who arrived, closely followed by Anseyla and Jorsha Sammon.

“We saw the explosion!” She cried out. “Where is Eva? Is she hurt?”

Kuwasi raised his hands. “Calm down, Inandrey,” he tried to placate the wrought up mother. “Evanis is fine; she wasn’t hurt.”

“See! I told you, mom,” Anseyla joined in. “Jabbit would never harm Eva.”

“Look at the size of the crater and the scorched earth,” Jorsha Sammon pointed out. “There should be hundreds of dead here. Where are they?”

“They followed Eva into battle,” Kuwasi answered factually.

Jorsha gaped. “I’ll never get used to this ... at least I hope I won’t.”

“The Forsaken Army just surrendered to Evanis,” Kuwasi replied. “And it looks like our other enemies ceased fighting, too. Maybe that’s easier for you to accept.”

The lady Onessa approached the gathering from the north riding a fox-red Alorian thoroughbred.

“King Aerathon and the Danubian army capitulated to Dabas’Lohross and Rhaseris,” she jubilated. “The Lords of Barthobar subjected themselves to Prince Agon and the Queen of Ibanee. The Alorian High Priest, his Untars, and the Bhansun – at least, those who didn’t die climbing the erupting Temple Hill - fled Katerra once again. The victory is ours!”

Shinta arrived just a moment later, guiding an extraordinary, tetchy-looking warrioress - extraordinary even by Evanis’ lofty standards. Inandrey ignored the warning signs.

“I’m so relieved nothing happened to my little girl,” the mother gushed, fiercely embracing her daughter.

“What are you wearing, Eva?” Her sister asked.

“I think it’s an imperial banner,” Jorsha Sammon surmised.

“Oh ... how ... ehm ... nationalistic of her,” Anseyla complimented as she recognized the glare Shinta cast at her.

Too late ... Inandrey quit their embrace and held her daughter at the shoulders, closely observing her appearance.

“What happened to your armor?” She asked.

“My clothes are a bit singed but I’m fine,” Evanis grumped. “Just let it go, mom.”

“I knew it!” Inandrey erupted. “Where is this alleged deity? I bet he’s hiding somewhere!”

All three - Evanis, Anseyla, and the nearing Rhaseris - pointed to the north.

Anjatta stood with her hands on her hips at the edge of the needle peak and looked at Jabbit.

“Now, after you’ve had some more fun at my expense, will you finally tell me how to get down from here?” She asked, her voice decisive but calm.

Jabbit returned her gaze but didn’t answer.

“ ... my Lord,” she added.

He smiled. “You don’t need to be meek when you talk to me.”

“And how do I need to behave to receive a serious answer?”

“You would have jumped,” Jabbit reflected. “I think I don’t understand you.”

“Yes,” Anjatta agreed with both statements. “I told you I believe in you. What you don’t understand is I don’t believe in me. I am an oracle; I’ve seen the past and I’ve seen the future but whenever I try to act on what I’ve seen, everything I do is wrong.”

He nodded. “You have seen some pieces but never the whole picture. I don’t know the picture, either - not yet. That’s why I still need to continue learning. We both need to learn.”

Jabbit held out the lance to Anjatta. “Step away from the cliff and take the lance. Then close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

She took the broken weapon and closed her eyes.