Fire Born, page 14
The creature nodded its head, and long tendrils of black mist circled along the old stone walls. What a sight to behold! Rather fascinating when one looked closer, as the fog seemed to glitter. When it twinkled, Aidan wondered briefly if it was fashioned from diamonds or some form of crystal. His greed was absolute, as he knew well enough that power corrupted all.
“Aidan,” said Tim, looking upon him in concern. “Are you alright?”
Aidan turned to him in surprise, steadily accepting the new glass of water into his trembling hands. He clutched tightly, his fingers shaking from his latest sighting of the obsidian creature that plagued him from night to day. He shuddered, smiling grimly.
“I’m fine,” he said, making sure not to look over his shoulder. He was fine and safe within the pub; the loud crowds distracted him from the creature that seemed dedicated to draining his very life away from him. It would not do!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Her screams pierced the night, and the misty black clouds parted, revealing a looming full moon that appeared.
Phoenix held no love for his sister, but he was far more subtle about it than his brother, Aurelian. He knew those screams well enough, as they belonged to Aurelie. In truth, not once did he bother to climb out of bed and command the servants to help her. He knew she possessed a flair for the dramatic.
But upon the morning, it quickly became clear his sweet sister was missing. The only worry that seemed to linger within his steady beating heart was the threat of Lord Gillian. The husband of his sister, although the two of them had never loved one another. But the man gave Aurelie a prosperous future, and she, in return, gifted him a rise in status. Upon her death, he fell, and all his political schemes were all for nothing. And Phoenix certainly wouldn't have his help in dealing with this upstart rebellion if he didn't express concern for his sister. Aurelie would have to be found.
The Sephora were a problem.
Phoenix knew that acquiring their help would be difficult, but it would be more so if he were to have to part with a certain amount of money all in his pursuit his missing sister. And it was in no way his fault.
If Aurelie desired to run off far away from her husband, that would be a disaster. But even Phoenix, a man who despised his sister, knew Aurelie would never abandon her honour and duty. Even in the name of love, it was simply who she was. Aurelie seemed to be the only Volun who had a heart that knew kindness and respect. Phoenix, as a child, never thought such a thing was possible, as Voluns were cruel. This was a fact that certainly couldn't be denied.
So it came as no surprise when Lord Gillian stormed into his study, his long crimson cloak billowing behind him. It was a statement, and his clothes were made of the most beautiful silk and other materials. His grin was rather shark-like. Phoenix could barely suppress the groan that crawled its way up his throat. No morning could be worse than this, he quickly decided. His brother-in-law was an idiot.
Gillian had spent most of his life circling the elite. If he were more ambitious and held a slight amount of intelligence, he would have achieved it without the need to enter marriage. But clearly, he didn’t possess the wits for such a power move as that. Phoenix could easily place himself upon the throne, for he had the mind and skill for it. Getting rid of his brother wouldn’t be too difficult; after all, Aurelian was a fool.
Aurelian was the Volun who lacked the most intelligence; they all knew it. Yet somehow, he was the one who sat upon the throne. Phoenix knew the reason for this could be observed easily enough; Aurelian was pliable if the right words were spoken. The precise control was in the hands of the Ministry, the old men who acted as the unofficial council of the King. This was why Haast had more power than many assumed; they were a powerhouse, but frowned upon by the Andriis citizens all because of their culture and the way they went about living.
Did the Androsiians have the right to doubt them in such a way? No, that much was clear. For, in truth, they were much worse. Most would suspect betrayal would come from a Haastian, but in fact, it was much more likely to come from the pale hands of a Lord.
Haast had plenty of Lords, but they certainly didn’t sit in cold stone castles and prattle on about the need of duty to the subjects of whom they ruled over. In Haast, such a thing was not done; there was only the Ministry and the Lords that served them.
The Ministry dominated overall, and even the King obeyed their law and wisdom. But in most cases, in his role, Aurelian didn’t even realise he was doing so. The leaders were quite talented in their ability to twist their words. It was to be applauded, dreadfully so. Phoenix despised them, and in doing so, he abhorred his own foolishly naive brother. One would think a man with such sadistic pleasures would take more interest in the politics of harming another. After all, it could be just as deadly.
Gillian glared at him. The yellow robes he wore underneath the cloak were atrocious. Aurelie clearly spent most of her time dressing him, for he certainly didn’t know how to do it himself. Such a thing wasn’t particularly surprising, as most of the elite were much the same. After all, that’s what a servant was for.
Phoenix wrinkled his nose in disgust. The man’s blonde hair was a scruffy mess, as was his unwashed face. There were even a few scattered crumbs in his blonde beard that made Phoenix cringe in utter disgust.
Dull, blue eyes peered into his own with a sense of hatred or rage; he couldn’t tell which it was. They looked very much the same, and Phoenix supposed most of his men had gathered such a look themselves. Phoenix was a tedious commander, and much too strict. Everyone knew that, even he himself.
“I’ll find her,” he sighed. “I’ve already sent some men on the lookout. The King has been informed, and I’ve sent the Sephora a letter detailing a possible earlier meeting. Please, do calm yourself.”
“You will find her,” hissed Gillian. “Or so help me, I won’t hesitate to go back on our agreement. You need my men.”
Phoenix gritted his teeth, praying for a respite of this utter madness. It was just like Aurelie to cause drama wherever she went, even in the matter of her abduction. He knew it wasn’t her fault, logically, but the blame was easier to rest upon her shoulders.
“The Sephora will be here soon,” he informed Gillian. “So I’d sort yourself out. The letter was sent days ago.”
Gillian growled like a beast, and in his mind, Phoenix couldn’t help but wonder if he was one. It would certainly explain the barbaric manners and hideous looks that were abhorrent in any form. An agreement wasn’t in sight; this much was clear.
Gillian’s upbringing was much like his cousin’s. Aureus Volun was a man who’d been raised far away from the family. Gillian and Aureus were both born into a similar situation, and they were bastards, children born out of wedlock. In most cases, this mattered little. But their fathers were shamed, and the wives they had married refused to even look at them. As it turned out, both fathers passed away without any Heirs. So, naturally, the family money was passed onto their only sons, regardless of their social status.
Gillian had hardly known anything about society and the elite when he came into his inheritance. Aureus was quite different, and his father had supplied him with tutors and money on the side. He did have a brother at one point, but he’d long since passed, leaving everything to Aureus.
Aureus, in many ways, was similar to Aurelian. They both possessed a rather long, wild streak of violence, far more than was necessary. They both looked much the same, hideous and wretched, with wrinkled hands and emerald eyes that spoke of much madness beneath.
They were twisted, and surely, in the truth of it all, Phoenix would’ve been the better King. His mother simply should have loved him more than her firstborn child, but alas, such a story would never play out. He was hated and reviled by his mother; the reason couldn’t be told. Even he, the son, thought it to be a mystery. What mother would hate their son?
It was unheard of. In Andriis and Haast tradition, children were to be adored and cared for. In fact, this was the only tradition they both seemed to agree upon. The rest was history. It was rather strange, and one would think a culture that enjoyed slavery wouldn’t love children as they were. From slave to elite. But that’s simply the way it was. After all, no child could be a slave until the age of sixteen.
There was one problem that remained: Aureus contained much intelligence within the prisms of his mind. Attempting to gather an alliance with the Vyries was a foolish but incredibly smart move to make. It could grant them the road to success or either destroy them in the process.
The Vyries were a proud bunch. They despised the Voluns as a whole. If they were granted the means to kill every single one, they would take it with greedy palms, just as they always had done. But that was where the problem stood. Aureus had a chance. Even though it was a slim one, the possibility remained. What could be done about that?
The study door clicked open, the old wood squeaking as a servant strode in. Phoenix frowned.
Anthony was his name; he bowed in respect to the two men who stood before him. He opened the door wider, revealing two Sephoras. It was clear that this was what they were, and it made his heart stutter in fear, for what men they were. One wore black and the other grey, as was tradition, and the two men moved together as if they were one.
Their faces were concealed with a black and grey hood, and Phoenix couldn’t help but admire them in barely concealed awe. He’d never truly met a Sephora before, though of course, he knew the myths and legends that surrounded them. How could he not? What kind of citizen would he be if he knew nothing of the Sephora?
The robes they wore weren’t long, not like the Lords and Ladies. No, they were short, and could hardly be considered as robes at all. The thick, well-made cotton material hung to their waists, and connected to it were the great, looming hoods they wore with pride. The cotton shirts and tights were rather simple, and Phoenix wouldn’t ever admit to admiring their leather boots more than the shining purple swords that they each carried.
Shivering Silver. The weapon that many feared, and well within good reason. It was the deadliest form of sword that could be forged—the proud signature weapon worn by all Sephoras with a sense of pride. Phoenix had wanted one all his life, but they were costly, and most didn’t have the money to afford one – even those who came from high priced families. The King was given one as a gift, but even then, only the Sephora had them. On the rare occasion, they would design one for another, but as it was said that such a thing as that was hardly ever done.
Mostly, the swords were gifted from apprentice to Master, and they could only be recognised by status from the colours they wore. Black was a symbol of authority and the position as a servant of death, and grey was quite the opposite. The grey-robed were students.
Judging by these figures cloaked in grey, they were close to the age of fifteen or sixteen. They certainly weren’t tall enough to be in their twenties. It was a fascinating thing to watch; they looked at one another as if they were exchanging thoughts. But such a thing couldn’t be possible; magic didn’t exist. The possibility of shared thoughts lingered, but Phoenix had never been one to believe in magic.
They stood before him. He vaguely heard Gillian choking in fear at the sight of these two assassins, as most people would. They were a fearsome sight to behold. That much was clear. They didn’t bow or greet them in any manner; they simply stared. It was unnerving, and the prickling in his spine and along his bones seemed to agree with him.
There was silence within his study, and that in itself wasn’t an unusual occurrence, for that was precisely what the study existed there for: peaceful solitude and a lovely restful place to work. Phoenix had always enjoyed his space, and the study he worked in was connected to his office, but he hardly ever went in there. Neither did his visitors, for it was an unpleasant sight. Not for them. No, the room conjured bad memories for Phoenix himself, of what? He never said.
The walls in his study were lined with books that he’d gathered over the years from all over Andriis and Haast. They added well to his collection; he quietly noticed that the young apprentice seemed to have zoned in on the books that were dedicated to the old practices of magic. Not that such a thing existed. But it was a fascinating subject.
The eldest nudged the younger Sephora sharply, bringing his attention back to the Lord who had invited them into his home. There was a reason for it all; they both knew it. James and Gian had been informed of their mission, and nothing else was said on the matter. They would simply attend the meeting and grin through it all, and the decision they would reach would tell the story of this little rebellion of theirs and how it would play out.
As the Ministry said, “Rebellions are never good for our banks, not in the long run. They are dangerous and threaten to spill secrets that have long since been kept.” It was the Sephoras’ duty to keep the peace, and so they would.
James stepped forward. His leather, buckled boots made no noise. Phoenix supposed it wouldn’t do good for an assassin to have squeaky boots. Killing their supposed targets would be much more difficult, and certainly less effective.
“You wish to hire the Sephora as your... servants?”
The danger within that tone was clear enough. They didn’t appreciate the idea of it, for no Sephora was a servant. Certainly to nothing living.
This was confirmed by the next harshly spoken statement: “We obey no one but death!”
Phoenix swallowed his fear. “I understand,” he said, his voice uneven. “We’re not asking for servants, but assassins. An army of them.”
James frowned. “That’s something we’ll never be. The Sephora will only ever be under the control of our Ministry and the Elders. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“And if you had Ministerial Generals?”
James seemed surprised that such a thing existed. Or, at least, he appeared puzzled that an Andriis Lord knew the workings of their realm. The Ministry had many departments that dealt with business throughout the Kingdom. The Ministerial Generals were part of the Ministry, and everyone knew that. But there was much more to it than that, and the Generals were there to lead the Sephora into battle when the missions needed more than six pairs – the Sephora always came in doubles. That was simply the way it was, as it had been for hundreds of years. The history of their Ministry was shadowed. The knowledge on them wasn’t great, and that only made many fear them all the more.
Gian looked up at his Master. Crossing his arms over his chest silently, despite the fact he’d been told many times not to do such a thing. It was unseemly, in James’ opinion.
“And you would allow an army to be run by the Ministry?”
“Yes,” said Phoenix.
“With the right money, we might be able to come to an agreement,” the assassin said, with a sly little smirk. Not that the Lords could see it, for his face was hidden from their view.
“Good,” Phoenix replied. “I have an army already standing behind me. But to win for the King, I need more than that.”
“You desire power,” said Gian, looking upon them in caution as was asked of him. His Master had told him from the moment he could walk that trusting anyone would lead to death.
“Most people do,” said Phoenix with a nod of his head. And this was very much true; above all, he wished for power. Much like everyone else, Phoenix knew the primary power source was the Ministry. In their eyes, he’d have to look like a fool to gain that throne, but afterwards, no such thing would be necessary. “That throne is rightfully mine. But my brother has handled it well enough over the years. I’m fine being the commander of the Royal Supreme. We’re skilful – perhaps not as much as we could be. The Sephora have far more skills in battle than we do. Everyone knows that.”
“Yes,” James said, tipping his head. “We have great skill. Far more than others. Especially your enemies.”
“The Vyries,” hissed Phoenix. “They’ll be a problem. I know how much they hate my family. The King is unsure whether they’ll try and destroy us all through Aureus, or simply him. We can’t know for sure; too much is at risk.”
Gillian cleared his throat, glaring at the man who he knew held no love or affection for his sister. “And what of my wife?”
Phoenix groaned. “Good heavens, man! Do you ever stop? I’ve already had my men searching out there for my sister. But the Sephora certainly cannot help. I only have so much money.” Even while he spoke, he knew finding his sister was important, incredibly so. He needed Gillian’s alliance, and there was far too much at stake. He would’ve preferred to have brought up the subject in the presence of the Gods. Perhaps over official papers detailing their agreement. But Gillian had always been a fool; he’d spilt the truth of a weakness in which they both shared. And now, it was before the Sephora. Both men looked at one another, but not much could be said on their opinion on the matter, for the features they wore were covered.
