Page 81 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 81- HESTAN

“G ive me your spear,” I said to Kaspian, outstretching my hand.

He narrowed his eyes but did so.

On my toes, I pivoted to face the Palace, looking up at the height of the gate.

“You’re not going up there, are you?”

“I can’t go through the crowd,” I replied, still glancing up, mentally calculating how I could thrust myself over.

“What are you doing this for? You think he’d do the same for you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I must try.”

The boy was staring at me, I faced him. “Stay with this man. He’ll protect you.”

Kaspian didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not your Captain anymore, perhaps I was never fit to be. But will you do as I ask? One final time?”

Kaspian snarled at the boy slightly. “You do remember I threatened to kill him, don’t you?”

But he hadn’t truly, only informed me that had I tried to escape, the boy might have died in the ensuing conflict.

“Please don’t,” I smiled tightly.

“Then make sure you come out of there.”

I nodded. Then, repeating my actions from before, I aimed Kaspian’s spear high and threw it at an upper part of the gate. I used the slight momentum from the small amount of length I had from my own spear to jump upwards, and grab onto Kaspian’s, hanging from it. I swung myself up onto its base.

It would have to be left here. I would have to enter the Palace without a weapon, I would have to find another one along the way.

I thrust myself upwards once more, this time, gripping onto the top edge of the gate, that met with the stone walkway lining it.

The guards had long since dispersed, likely to the Palace, in an attempt to defend the King.

Some had likely dispersed away from it, in an attempt to escape.

There was nobody here.

The villagers of the Inner City, of Reyaru, were not in their houses. They were not on the streets.

Where were they? Had they fled? Was Dunlan's unwillingness to open the gates a chance for the residents to evacuate? Hadn't he thought those living outside it deserved a chance at evading death as well ?

I skipped down the stone stairwell of the wall, peering around at the landscape, quiet and dull. It was as if the wall partitioned two completely different realities, on one side, death and devastation, bloodshed and pain, fear, and desolation.

On this side, it was almost peaceful, serene.

I waded through the empty pavements, up the incline, turning my head down each corner to ensure that I was correct.

Nobody was here.

The Palace gates themselves were open, blasted so, likely by the same mechanism the other gates had just been forced down.

I stepped in softly.

There were no guards, no staff, once again the space was utterly devoid of any signs of existence.

I made my way through the hallways punctuated by towering pillars of pale blue and white. They met a ceiling painted with a rendition of a sky, coloured with the first glimpses of a sunrise. The circular and arched windows let in the dull light of a day clouded by smoke, casting weak silver iridescent patterns on the floor.

I halted.

Voices.

I made my way towards them, high upon a balcony, and curled around the corners.

To the throne room.

It was practically empty, the pale blue of the floor shone brightly without many occupants to cover its colour. A peach and rose-coloured depiction of clouds acted as a backdrop to King Dunlan, not sitting, but kneeling before his throne. His hand was clutched at one of the arm rails. His sapphire and silver crown curled over his forehead and long dark hair. His brown eyes were slit in tension and anticipation.

Vasara’s King stood before him, his sword at his back. A whip was clasped in his left hand. Its length and his face were smeared in dirt and blood. Several soldiers stood behind him quietly.

I regarded the scene, keeping to the shadows the pillars cast from high above, crouching, peering through the railings.

There was an air about the Vasara’s King that was unavoidable, easily felt by all who were in his presence. It was one I had detected on several occasions while I had been in Vasara. But now, it was as if a veneer had been peeled off, and only a sharp and cold blade, removed from its sheath remained.

“There is no use in begging for your life,” the King said unfeelingly.

Dunlan lifted his chin slightly. “It is not my life I beg you for, Your Majesty.”

“The Lady Dyna is already dead,” the King stated, completely unmoved by the words he had just uttered.

Dunlan’s entire face seemed to tremble, his eyelashes, his lips, his cheeks.

“She was…your blood.”

My hands tightened around the railings I had clasped them around.

“Yes, and yet you sent her to Vasara.”

“She didn’t know…your father…he…”

“Did he? Did he know?” The King asked.

Dunlan nodded yes.

She was your blood.

Vasara's King, had his father been…Dyna’s father as well?

Had the King come all this way, simply to end Dyna’s life?

It struck me then. That it had, in all likelihood been him, that Vasara's King had been the one to poison her.

I ground my teeth so hard I tasted blood where I had bit into my own cheek.

“The others will not get far. Pegasi or no,” the King remarked.

So, he had not only come for Dyna then. He intended to hunt the others as well.

“Your Majesty…I can only assume your reasons for your grievances with me,” Dunlan said. “But my wife, my children, my people…it has nothing to do with them.” He spoke carefully and unhurriedly.

“Your people?” The King looked at Dunlan with dismay.

Dunlan drew back, standing to his full height, flicking his dark blue tunic behind him as he did. He was just as tall as the King and broader, but he cowered before him now.

“I thought so,” Dunlan said dejectedly.

I flitted my eyes between the two crowned men. There were unspoken words between them only they understood.

There was indeed another reason Vasara’s King was here.

That note, that Noxscroll, it had spoken of a design to bring Kalnasa to its knees. Was it Vasara’s King who had orchestrated it?

I couldn’t decide, couldn’t fathom whether the two were correlated or connected.

A moment, exactly as this flashed before my mind.

Only I had been ten.

The sorcerers had swarmed into our village, our house, and killed my parents, my brothers before my eyes.

And I had been too frightened, too young, unlearned in fighting and the cruelty of the world, too weak to do anything but watch.

It would not be so this time.

I straightened up, resolving to somehow, without a weapon, do whatever it was I could to protect the man who had found me, in that cupboard all those years ago, who had offered me shelter, who had given me a place to feel safe, to call home.

But Dunlan spoke again.

“How did you know?”

Vasara’s King’s face remained impassive as he replied. “Your crimes remain the same, no matter how they were uncovered.”

“But they were my crimes Your Majesty. They were no-one else’s.”

Crimes? What crimes?

The King blinked slowly. “Do you expect me to take your word as truth?”

“If you do this, there is no turning back, you cannot wipe an entire Kingdom from existence and expect the others to stand and watch, to do nothing. You are starting a war.”

The King shook his head calmly. “I expect them to do no such thing. But you can rest assured, I have no desire to start a war amongst humans.”

Dunlan laughed, deeply. “You truly expect this to go unanswered?” His attitude had changed from pliant to furious within minutes.

“And who will answer?” Vasara’s King replied confidently.

Dunlan didn’t respond.

“War or no war. Your Kingdom’s very existence cannot be tolerated any longer.”

“Cannot be tolerated?” Dunlan spat, stepping forwards, his long dark hair swaying behind him. “These are people’s lives you speak of.”

“The same people you have been watching starve to death?”

“Only because we did not receive the appropriate assistance from—"

“The other Kingdoms? Yet you expect them to act after you are gone.”

Vasara’s King shifted his whip from his left hand to right, then drew his sword, ready to fulfil his promise. I fully straightened now, and leapt over the balcony, landing on my feet clumsily, behind Dunlan’s throne.

The eyes of Vasara’s King lit up. Dunlan spun around at the sound. His eyes widened.

Vasara’s King held his sword by his side. He drew his head back slightly, his chin up.

“I should have expected you to survive, Captain,” he remarked with a closed lipped smile.

“What is this, Your Majesty?” I spat through gritted teeth.

Vasara’s King turned his head to glance at Dunlan, then back at me.

“Your King would have been able to inform you, I am assuming he has not yet done so. However, I am here to take his life and since you have no weapon, I am not particularly concerned about your ability to stop me.”

Dunlan however, reached into his robes, while still looking at me.

He pulled out a dagger.

And slit his own throat.

Even Vasara’s King, who always appeared as if nothing could surprise him, furrowed his brow in shock, stepping back, frowning.

I rushed over to Dunlan, catching him before he fell forwards, holding him by the shoulders.

He appeared as if he wished he could speak, but he could not. Blood was spilling from his throat, a waterfall of ruby against a sapphire lake. It spilled onto my pale clothing, coating it with yet more blood.

Dunlan only reached for his hand and removed a ring. He pressed it into my palm and clutched my shoulders, his mouth bubbling with blood as his head fell onto my knees.

With his face up in my lap, his eyes travelled over the angles of my own before they stopped moving.

Before he stopped breathing.

His body lay drenched in blood on my legs.

I glared down at his corpse.

My father.

My mother.

All three of my brothers.

My mentor.

Dyna.

Dunlan.

Was Kaspian still alive? The boy?

Zain?

Purcell?

How many more?

How much longer?

I gripped the ring tightly into my hands, slipping it onto my thumb. It slid over blood.

I could hear the King take several steps forwards.

I didn’t meet his eyes. They were still fixed on the King’s body.

The King I had served since I was a child. The King who had shown me a new purpose, a new life. The King who was the first to offer me a warm smile after it had happened.

“It’s good you survived, Captain,” Vasara’s King spoke.

Something hit me hard at the back of my skull. My ears rang, but I could still hear the King’s voice, soft and purposeful as he spoke.

“I’d like to test a theory.”