Page 5 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 5 - NATHON

W hen I was a child, there was a time I believed I had died. Even years later, I still found myself wondering if I had. I would seek out whatever danger, feeling, pain, or part of this world that could anchor me to it, that could convince me I was in fact, still alive.

I remembered that feeling well.

Here it was, creeping back into every fibre of my body, that distinct sensation of not being here, of floating into the distance while a heavy weight crushed my chest. It was like I was dying all over again, only I wasn’t. I was here, in the throne room, staring at my father with undisguised shock.

Loria wasn’t speaking. She was simply looking at him, blinking hard and insistently, as if she were hoping in one of those instances, she would open her eyes to find she had been hallucinating, dreaming, or simply imagining everything.

Sarlan reached out to stroke her face with the back of his hand. It was strange to see such tenderness from him. Sickening.

I knew I should remain silent, but watching this false display of softness, after giving her such a command, was too much to bear.

I took a step towards them.

“You want her to kill the King? Have you completely lost –”

He dropped Loria’s chin and within a second, with the same hand, shoved me to the floor before I could fully reach him.

He loomed over me as my back slammed into the black marble.

“Did you forget yourself so easily?”

I looked over his shoulder to find Loria staring at me. I could almost see the thoughts swirling around her mind, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to decide what to do. He was getting closer.

“Sarlan.” Our mother strolled towards him, paying no attention to me. “We should return to the matter at hand.”

It was tempting to persuade myself that her intervention had been a way of rescuing me, but I knew better. She simply saw this as a distraction, an inconvenience.

“Yes.” Sarlan’s gaze drilled into me. “ Without interruption this time.”

After hovering over me for a moment, he turned away. I shot up before he could change his mind. I could feel the throb of my hip bone as I rose, but it was of little consequence.

After all, I had sustained far worse injuries in the past.

He turned to Loria who was still standing, frozen in place, looking at me. Her facial expression indicated she wished to speak but thought better of it. Her lips tightened. Her fists were clenched tightly by her sides.

“Where were we?” Sarlan tilted his head, appraising her.

She didn’t answer. I didn’t blame her for it.

Our mother’s bitter voice filled the silence. “You should speak when your King addresses you.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Loria finally spoke.

“King Elion and Queen Celise are dead. Such a tragedy…. the Darts they say,” Sarlan chuckled.

“They… say?” Loria asked.

I shot her a glance. What was she doing?

Although it was difficult to condemn her for opening her mouth at an inappropriate time, considering I had just done so myself.

Sarlan squinted. “If you are implying I had something to do with it, you are mistaken.”

“You just… asked me to kill the King.” She appeared confused.

Condemn her no, but her newfound bluntness was dangerous. She needed to stop talking.

“Yes, the soon to be King Eliel. I would never have been so foolish to do such a thing while Elion reigned.”

“You have been planning to strike them then?” Loria’s voice was quiet.

“Strike?” Sarlan’s harsh laugh ran through the air. “No. Vasara’s armies are strong, their warriors too well trained. There is no guarantee we would defeat them in the field.”

Why was he entertaining her questions? He never normally spoke to Loria at all, let alone allow her to speak to, or challenge him.

The realisation dawned upon me. A sharp pang of understanding sliced through my gut.

“But now,” Sarlan continued, “with a young, inexperienced, and if rumour is to be believed, conceited King… now is our chance.”

Loria was trembling slightly, from fear or rage, I couldn’t tell.

“Did you know,” Sarlan ignored her question, “that Vasara is actually the smallest of the Five?”

Loria was quiet for a moment, then suddenly, as if remembering our mother’s previous instruction, blurted out. “Yes. I do. I did know.”

“It has the least resources. Its Royal Family is one of the youngest in existence and yet…Vasara possesses the power, the influence, the riches.” Sarlan began pacing in front of us. “It takes from us and reaps the rewards.”

“The Kingdoms are… living in peace,” Loria protested.

Sarlan laughed, genuinely amused. “Peace? Peace, is it? This peace is simply a war waiting to happen. I am not the only person who thinks so. We are not the only Kingdom displeased with Vasara’s reign.”

During my time blending into different territories and listening to the rumours circulating around each Kingdom, I had heard complaints, discontent, and grumbles of frustration about each of the Royal households. But I had not judged them to be any more than the anticipated amount, normal for those subject to the rules and laws of others.

I would have known. If there had been discontent among the people strong enough to spread across the Kingdoms, to amount to war.

It was not truly the people then, but the nobility, the elite, the powerful, they were the discontented.

As if Loria had read my thoughts she said, “The people do not seem displeased. I thought that—"

Sarlan cut her off with a warning look. “This is our chance to take what Audra deserves. Eliel is Elion’s only legitimate heir. His death would throw Vasara into complete disarray, without him, their Kingdom will be left without a King…without direction. An empty throne is much easier to take than an occupied one.”

“But Elias—" Loria started.

“Is a drunken disgrace. He poses as much threat to us as a moth to a flame. It will be he that burns if he intervenes.”

“I’m… I couldn’t…I don’t know how…I’ve never.” The reality was engulfing Loria now.

She gave me a desperate look, one that pleaded for my intervention, one that said, Why can’t it be you? Why can’t you do it?

But the answer had struck me already, unforgivingly as a sharpened blade primed to kill. Loria was a pawn, a sacrificial piece on a board. Sarlan could not take the throne himself without being questioned, without being branded a usurper. He could not influence or rule from Vasara directly.

But Loria…Loria could do something the rest of us could not.

“I’ll be killed, I—"” Loria sputtered.

“You will not be killed. You will be his wife.” The volume of Sarlan’s voice increased as he finally revealed his true intentions.

Loria looked as if she had been doused in ice cold water. She looked like a terrified little girl and not a young woman.

“No…no…I,” she took a step back. Sarlan quickened his pace to close the distance between them, the shadow of his form swallowing her.

“This is not a request. You will do this. You will not disappoint me.”

He turned to look at me now. “And you…you will go with her.”

“Did you want me to marry him as well?” I asked.

That was a mistake.

The disturbing grin he gave me only confirmed it was.

“That’s the third time today, Nathon.”

I strained to remember if I’d ever made three ‘mistakes’ in one day before. I had, I thought. I’d survived those days, those punishments.

I wasn’t keen to relive them, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from making such “mistakes” from time to time.

There would be consequences for them, after this meeting was over.

“I –” I attempted to speak.

“You will be silent.” Our mother looked at me with disgust. I pressed my lips together, tightening them shut. I had long since learnt to hide the disdain I felt for her from my face.

“You will be accompanying Loria to Vasara, as her escort for the Courting Season,” Sarlan explained.

“That’s many months away is it not?” I made an effort to sound more passive rather than confrontational this time.

“It seems that Vasara is aware of the vulnerability a lack of heirs continues to create for them and is seeking to rectify the situation as soon as possible. Of course,” – he turned to look at Loria, reaching out to remove an errant strand of hair from her face – “it will not be soon enough.”

I continued to adopt a cautious tone. “Is it not usually a member of the Kingdom’s guard or army that accompanies the candidates?”

“It is…but it will be you.”

“Why?” Loria asked.

Sarlan thought about it for a moment, “Because, while you are taking part in the Season’s activities, Nathon will be supplying us with information. It would not be possible for you to do both without arousing suspicion. A guard could do this, yes, but Nathon’s… reputation , will allow him to spend more time outside the Palace walls without inviting unnecessary questions.”

Sarlan glanced at me, a cold serpentine glint sifted in his gaze. I didn’t react.

“But what if The King doesn’t –” Loria implored.

“He must. You must make him choose you,” Sarlan lowered his gaze to her. “If you do not, I will be very, very displeased. Do you understand?”

Loria’s fists were clenched even harder now, her nails were likely digging into her palms hard enough to cut them.

“Once you are carrying his heir, only then will you kill him. Or get him to do it for you.” He pointed in my direction without taking his gaze off Loria. “I do not care how it is done, stab him, poison him, strangle him, that is of no consequence. We can ensure the blame is laid at another’s feet. Afterwards, with you as the rightful Queen, harbouring his unborn child, nobody will challenge us.” Sarlan sounded pleased with himself.

At the realisation she was expected not only to win the Season and kill the King, but to bear his child as well, Loria’s eyelids fluttered in an attempt to hold back tears.

I took a step towards them. My mother tutted so loudly, glaring in my direction, that Sarlan looked over his shoulder. A threat in his gaze pinned me in place.

I did not stop for my own sake, but for hers.

“Please…please,” Loria begged. Fruitlessly, she must have known. Or perhaps she did not. Perhaps there was a part of her that believed she could appeal to his better nature.

A nature I knew did not exist.

Tears pooled at the corner of her bright golden eyes. They looked like lakes the sun was shining upon, rippling with gleaming light.

“Enough,” Sarlan’s tone cut through her whimpers. “This is what you were born for. You will kill, lay with, and speak to whomever I tell you to.”

Without realising, my breath had begun to quicken. Seeing Loria like this was painful. This is what I had hoped to spare her from, to keep her from, all these years. It was infuriating to think my hopes may have been nothing more than whimsical delusion.

I approached him tentatively. “There must be another way.”

Loria’s gaze darted towards my face in what seemed like surprise.

Sarlan turned to me. “I had considered sending you to execute this order, but after the results of the last, I would rather not take any risks,” Sarlan spat out in clear disappointment.

I held my breath.

The results of the last.

Silus had found out then.

“Besides, his death is not enough, we need a legitimate claim to power,” Sarlan finished his explanation.

I took a step forwards. “This is also a risk. A massive risk.”

“It is not for you to question my commands,” Sarlan took a step towards me.

“She could end up dead,” I pointed in Loria’s direction.

“You will not let that happen. You will die if you must, but she is the key, if she dies and you live…then you will suffer for it.”

My head jerked back. My arm dropped.

“You leave seven nights from now,” our mother added.

I kept forgetting she was there. She was like a silent statue that only ever made its presence known to amplify our father’s voice.

Loria didn’t speak. I didn’t speak. We had nothing to say, it seemed, nothing to add. I had believed myself incapable of being shocked by what my father or mother did anymore, but somehow, they always found a way to leave me stunned by their actions.

“Go Loria. Find Strella. She will prepare your outfits and the things you will need for the journey. She will need to fix… this.” Our mother waved a hand over Loria’s body, surveying her own daughter with disgust.

Loria glanced down at herself, then back up at our mother, then at me. I’d never seen her look so broken, so devastated before.

Her gaze was still fixed upon me when Sarlan spoke. “Leave Loria. Nathon, follow me.”

After a few moments of glaring at each other, Loria tore her gaze away from me and shuffled towards the exit. The guards closed the heavy doors behind her.

“Come,” Sarlan walked towards an alternative exit behind the throne, without checking to see if I was following him.

He didn’t need to. I knew I had no choice.

As I followed, my heart thumped hard enough to cause a slight tremble of the daggers attached to the belt across my hip. Even after all this time, Sarlan’s actions still unnerved me.

We kept walking. Not once did Sarlan stop, or pivot to face me.

I knew now where we were going.

We emerged into the Erebask pits, strolling through its main wide central, circular area, which was currently unoccupied. Normally, this was where Erebasks were trained, brought out to test their combat abilities, the projection of their lightning. Towering all around us were dark stone walls with large arched entrances, through which different Erebasks rested and lived.

I stood, rooted in place in the centre of the arena. Sarlan didn’t bother to acknowledge my lack of movement. He walked towards a man who was standing at the corner of the space, removing the debris from earlier sessions. He bowed deeply as my father approached him. Their quiet conversation was inaudible to me. After they had finished speaking, the man departed from the central space, retreating into the narrow walkway which led to the Erebasks lairs.

Sarlan strode towards me, his dark pants tickling the sand we stood on. “You think yourself noble?”

My brows furrowed, confused at the question. I definitely did not think that.

I pondered whether it was worth replying to his statement but kept silent. I had known this was coming. The price for voicing my opinion was always…

“Silus came to see me this morning.”

I let out an inadvertent huff of laughter and licked my lips. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took him so long.”

“You do not deny it then.” Sarlan’s sounded agitated.

“Would there be a point in doing so?”

My father lifted his chin, sneering at me in anger.

“What did Arton tell you?”

I took a deep breath. I had known Silus would eventually uncover the fact I had been able to retrieve information from each of the escapees. He was good at his work, almost as good as I. But still, I had no intention of sharing the details of what that information was. It was far too intriguing. Far too suspicious.

I clasped my hands together, silently conveying I would not be answering Sarlan’s question. He fiddled with a ring across his finger and came closer to me.

“You’ve always been a selfish boy, Nathon.”

I scoffed.

“It’s the truth. You were a selfish child and now you are a selfish man. You care only for yourself. You do only what is best for yourself. You do not let your emotions guide you. You feel little guilt or remorse when hurting others. I have seen it. In truth I wish Loria were more like you. It would make our task far easier.”

Our task?

I wasn’t entirely sure if he meant to insult or compliment me. Either way, the insinuation we were anything alike, made my insides twist in disgust.

He must have noticed the tension upon my face but continued. “Too many people allow themselves to be guided by their feelings, their beliefs about what is right and what is wrong. There is no such thing. There is no such line, not in our world…. but not you. You do what needs to be done, you are not sentimental. These are traits that keep someone alive. These are the traits that make someone strong. Your practicality is a weapon, it is a tool. You will need it, and you will use it when I tell you to, without question.” He paused for a moment. “Have you forgotten that?”

“No,” I groaned, barely able to restrain my loathing.

“I would attempt to force the information from you, but” – he looked me up and down – “I think that would prove unsuccessful. You have been too well trained.”

He waved his hand. In an instant, our bodies were cast in shade by the towering creature that was being pulled towards us on chains.

Kazal.

I made a move to walk towards Kazal, but my father stopped me instantly, his sword outstretched towards my neck.

I scoffed. Fear was Sarlan’s favourite tool. He knew the kiss of cold steel could make someone sicker than what it may actually do.

But I was no such person.

I met his eyes. “A corpse can’t bring Loria to Vasara.”

He was quiet. He wished to frighten me. To frighten others. He knew how people gave power to the one brandishing the blade.

The true cowards were the ones with their hands around the hilt.

I suppose that includes me as well.

Sarlan spoke, “Your nature is of great use to me. But it makes punishing you…difficult. The very same thing that makes you invulnerable to threat and manipulation from our enemies, makes getting you to fall into line a tiresome task.”

He twisted the sword a little, it was cool against my throat. Almost soothing in its promise of pain.

“You need reminding of what is at stake when you disobey me. The scars on your skin clearly aren’t enough.”

Kazal was looking at me, struggling against his chains, there were multiple men holding him now. Those chains were designed to weaken his abilities and strength. They had been infused with magic, and while sorcery had been banned across our world for decades, creatures like Erebasks and devices capable of controlling them were still at each Kingdom’s disposal, to ensure creatures of sorcery remained compliant.

Once I had claimed Kazal, I had removed those chains from him. I had hoped to spare him the feeling of helplessness, of captivity they inflicted.

But he was covered with them now.

“I have heard about your night visits here,” Sarlan gave me a taunting smile. “I have heard about your dedication to this beast. How touching. How…useful.”

My heart was pounding harder now, flapping around as wildly as Kazal’s wings.

“Don’t,” I said.

“What did he tell you?”

My gaze flitted between Kazal and Sarlan. For the first time in a long while, I was unsure of what to do, which path to take.

“As I thought,” Sarlan almost sounded pleased. He nodded towards the men surrounding Kazal.

One of them passed the chains to another and returned holding an axe. It was made from the same golden metal the chains were, covered in runes. Its sharp edge created a line across the sand as he dragged it towards Kazal.

“No!” I couldn’t believe the sound of my own voice as I pleaded with Sarlan. My yelling sounded hoarse and desperate. It was an unfamiliar sound to my ears. The sound I had made as a child.

I had not been one for long.

Sarlan revelled in it. “Watch and remember.”

The man drew closer to Kazal, who, sensing the axe, began screeching, twisting, and trying to free himself. With the chains weakening him, that was impossible.

“This attachment is useless. Erebasks are nothing but our weapons. One can easily be replaced with another.” Sarlan gestured towards the caves around us, indicating the number of Erebasks we had at our disposal.

“Kazal is—"

He raised his eyebrows. “ Kazal, is it?”

Most riders did not name their Erebasks at all. We were actively encouraged to view the creatures as our possessions rather than our companions.

He gripped my arm. “You must learn. This will teach you.”

He faced the men. “Four times I think, for three mistakes, and… this instance of withholding information.”

He looked at me and grinned, dropping his blade.

I ran toward Kazal but six other men, who had clearly been behind us the whole time, grabbed my arms and shoved me to the ground. I would normally have been able to rid myself of them within seconds. But Sarlan’s sword returned to my neck.

Kazal’s gaze was full of dread. I had never seen him frightened before. I hoped he could see his fear reflected in my own eyes. I hoped he knew I did not ask for this, that I would never have hurt him myself. That I would have taken countless beatings, lashings, or punches if it meant this noble creature could have avoided one.

Without warning, without any hesitation, the man holding the axe lifted it high above his head and swung it, plunging it deep into the flesh of Kazal’s right wing.

The growl of pain that erupted from his throat was so loud, it caused a cascade of sand to swirl around us. It entered my mouth, my eyes.

Again.

Kazal’s dark blue blood pooled underneath his wing, sinking into the sand below. His wailing grew louder by the second. The men holding his chains looked concerned, they turned towards their King with a question in their eyes.

Sarlan stood there, smirking, surveying me with keen intensity.

The third time, then the fourth, it crunched through bone.

I glared at my father. The sand rushed around us, scratching at my face, my neck, my eyes, but I did not close them. Kazal’s roar reached its peak intensity, blue lightning crackling within his eyes, radiating searing heat across the atmosphere.

I turned to look at each of the men yanking at his chains. I studied their faces, I memorised them. I did not care if they were afraid. I did not care if they were following orders. I did not care if they were men.

I would make sure one day, they paid for this.

Four times over.

Kazal sank with a weakness onto the sand. He looked at me with a weariness that tore at the inside of my chest.

Sarlan signalled to the men once more, who dragged the now bloodied Kazal back into the caves. The men behind me relaxed their grip, hastily retreating, as if they feared what I might do.

They were right to be afraid. I studied their faces too, before they sank into the shade.

I turned to Sarlan, seething with unbridled anger. Seconds passed before he spoke.

“You look at me this way, as if you can claim innocence.” Sarlan withdrew the blade from my neck, returning it to his sheath. “But I know what you are. I know the things you have done in the twenty-four years of your life. Things … you, yourself Nathon, asked me to do. Imagine what you will do in the next.”

I refrained from reminding him the reason for those exploits.

“Loria does not know the half of it, does she?” He smiled. “I’m sure you’d prefer I keep such information to myself.”

Loria hated me. I already knew. But she could still look at me, still, albeit reluctantly, converse with me.

If she knew the half Sarlan was currently threatening to share with her, however, I was sure she would never utter a word to me again.

“I’d say that would hardly be in your best interests, considering you want me to escort her.” I gave him a false smile.

“For now,” Sarlan shrugged. “But that’s the wonderful thing about knowledge, isn’t it? As long as you have it, it will always be a weapon. Blades and arrows can fail or dull with time. They can be lost, and sorcery is all but reduced to nothing… but knowledge? Knowledge cannot die, not while someone holds it, and not, when there is always someone else it can be shared with.”

“Unless it dies with the one who possessed it.” I looked him directly in the eye.

“A pity for you then, that I am not the only one aware of your true nature.”

Our mother was aware, so were several of my father’s men, the other “weapons” that formed his unit of soldiers and spies. It was honestly surprising that Loria remained oblivious.

“You know how I disapprove of your…other nightly activities.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day where they became useful to me. Your reputation as a delinquent will work to our advantage. You will pass on information about what is going on at Vasara to our informant. They will meet you at the Solar Inn at night. They will approach you.”

“I’ll need gold then. To keep up my… delinquency. ” I smiled coldly, planning on all the other ways I could use that gold.

My ‘reputation’ was the product of the time I spent in such places. I was now branded, amongst other things, as a gross indulger in revelry.

It was not the revelry I sought. I did not care for that at all. It was the noise. The clamouring desperation of people lost in themselves, their desires, their lives.

No matter where I went, I was recognised. People watched me like an animal, as if they were waiting for me to tear their throats out with my teeth. But under the darkness of night, the shade of debauchery and drunkenness, people’s gazes softened. It was the only time I felt a man and not a beast.

Yet the sun would always rise, hauling the truth with it over the horizon. I was a beast. I had been for years.

This element of my reputation was hardly the worst of the whisperings that carried my name. It was, however, the only one which Sarlan himself believed.

He knew the truth of the rest.

Only the world did not know the truth of him.

For as with most cruelty, his lived behind four walls, barricades, and locked doors. There it was safe. It did not have the bravery to face the world.

After a few moments of silence, Sarlan waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Your Erebask’s flight will be a problem for some time. You will travel there by horse,” he added.

I could taste blood as I bit down on my cheek. “Send someone to treat Kazal’s wounds.”

“I will do no such thing,” Sarlan raised his voice “Your Kazal will heal, I do not recall ever sending someone to treat your wounds. Why then, would I afford such a luxury to a slave creature?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Sarlan continued, “The next time you disobey me, I will make sure your Erebask never flies again. Do you understand?”

I didn’t respond.

“Do you understand?”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I spat.

“Good,” he smiled. “This Kazal will be further motivation for you. Fulfil this task and your Erebask lives. Fail and your Erebask dies.”

My breathing was ragged, uneven, stuttering in and out of my chest.

“If we fail, and you kill him,” I finally stood, “You better make sure you kill me too, because I will not rest until I’ve slit your throat.”

Sarlan’s expression was blank, unreadable. I was convinced he would strike me. There was perhaps a part of me that wanted him to hit me, to send me into that unawareness for a while.

But he didn’t, instead he laughed. “Him?”

He tilted his head, peering at me with a cold curiosity. It was the kind of gaze that scraped against your bones, making you writhe. Like a drop of cold and piercing rain, sliding down your neck. It should not be there. It was somehow wrong.

I did not answer, but I did not look away. Sarlan smirked and strode to the exit, as Kazal’s dark blue blood stretched towards my feet.

After he had left, I ran without hesitation towards Kazal’s pit.

He was no longer conscious, strewn against the ground, eyes closed, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

A Keeper who was inside, straightened up as I entered.

“Your Highness, we—" he glanced between Kazal and I, a pained expression in his gaze.

I held up my hand, nodding in understanding.

I entered the pen, and crouched by Kazal’s side, I reached out to touch him, but withdrew, worried I might aggravate his wounds. I sighed and gradually stood once more.

“How long?” I asked.

The Keeper brows drew together. He was startled by the question. “Not…at least…for a month, Your Highness, most likely two.”

Two months.

I rubbed my forehead, nodding, recalling the injuries of mine that had taken such a time to heal, or longer.

The pain of them was distant, like a reflection in the water, but it was something I could still hazily recall. To think Kazal suffered in a similar manner now…

“Your Highness, we will… care for him as best we can. He will be…he is strong.” The Keeper smiled.

“Pain does not care how strong you are,” I told him.

I hung back, standing in the shadows. The Keeper cast me awkward glances every few seconds.

“Why do you possess those weapons?” I asked. I knew cursed shackles existed, but the weapons, that axe, should long have been destroyed. They too were banned.

The Keeper’s lashes quivered. He looked down, avoiding my eyes.

Which meant, I knew, it was on Sarlan’s orders they were kept.

“How many do you have?” I inquired.

“I…truly do not know, Your Highness.”

I frowned. That seemed unlikely.

The Keeper raised his gaze towards me, but hurriedly cast it back at the floor when he noticed my expression.

“Twenty?” I asked.

Silence.

“Fifty?”

Silence.

“One …hundred?” I dragged out the words.

Silence.

“More than one hundred?”

The Keeper’s breathing pace had increased.

“There’s enough for an armoury,” I stated to myself.

The Keeper didn’t contradict me.

“ There is no guarantee we would defeat them in the field.” Sarlan had declared, with an entire armoury of these devices at his disposal.

It did not surprise me. Sarlan would not lift a blade when he could wield his own children. For he knew that which could not be denied. That which the new King could not escape.

That a smile could cut sharper than a sword.

That words could corrupt faster than poison.

And that people were the most dangerous weapons of all.