Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (13 page)

Domor said nothing. He stared at the woman and cast furtive glances at the open doorway.
He wanted nothing more than to flee.

She came to stand in front of him, sparing him little more than a glance before pulling up Zalee’s limp form. She wrapped a slim, metal chain about the Sha’ree’s wrists and attached it to a protruding stone hook that Domor had not seen. The woman then did the same to Zalee’s legs, stretching her out to shackle her in a half-lying, half-sitting position that even Domor could see gave her no leverage to move.

“Excellent work, Forger Illraine,” a smooth voice called out
from the doorway
.

Domor’s gaze
sought it out
. His stomach clenched when he saw who spoke. There at the door was another
of the
Sha’ree. Much like Zalee, she stood
of
average height, the doorway framing her lithe form. Dressed in a
brilliant
purple tunic and matching pants,
with
a silver
cloak hung from her shoulders
, it was the O’hra that drew Domor’s attention. She wore a full complement of the relics. Their bright shapes hung about her neck, her breasts, biceps, wrists, waist, and ankles. Her aura shimmered in the emerald glow they gave off.

The big woman blocked Domor’s view of the Sha’ree a moment
as she gave
a stiff bow. “I will wait outside until you
have need of me
.” Her voice rumbled through the room as she made her way outside.

The massive door swung closed, leaving Domor and the unconscious Zalee inside the room alone with the new Sha’ree. She came to stand before them.

She ignored Domor and knelt down beside Zalee. Her pale green hand reached out and caressed
Zalee’s
cheek, the O’hra at her wrist flickering brighter. “Wake, my sister, wake.”

Zalee stiffened and started into consciousness. Her eyes flew wide as she pulled against the
unexpected
restraints,
confusion
lining her face. As she saw the other Sha’ree, her eyes dipped narrow and the curve of her lipless wavered. “Sultae?” She stared a moment in obvious uncertainty. “I thought you dead.”

Sultae grinned. “No doubt you did, but no, I yet live
;
better still, I thrive.”

Zalee’s eyes narrowed further as she looked from the woman to the chains that held her. “Why am I restrained?
” Her arms stiffened as she tested her bonds.

“It is so you might understand how I felt when I was forced to leave
my
land,
my
people—
my life
—
to
be herded to the farthest reaches of our realm so that my death would not scar the precious spirits of the survivors.
Like me, you are being given no choice.
”

“But, I—”

“No!” Sultae screamed, slapping Zalee across her face. Bloody spittle flew and splattered across Domor’s chest. “You did nothing! You watched as I was pulled from my home and marched away to die amongst the sick. Free of the plague, you kept your distance as
we
suffered for the good of the lucky few. None of you even tried to cure the sickness, too afraid it might infect you.”

“That’s not true!” Zalee argued. “We searched and searched, and only just found the cause of the plague.”

Sultae shook her head.
“Come, little sister, do you expect me to believe your lies? It has been many
, many
moons since I was sent away, and yet here you are, hale and whole. Had you only just found the cause, as you say, you would have been long dead. The sickness is virulent, aggressive. It show
s
no mercy to those infected.”

“No, Sultae. It was worse in some; those who chose to use the O’hra more, those who abused the gifts of Ree more often than others. Not all who became sick suffered as horribly.”

Sultae broke out in laughter, her voice echoing in the room and casting shadows of the sound. “You blame Ree?” The Sha’ree stood and stepped away, setting her hand on the wall. “Forgive
her
for her foolishness, my goddess. She is but a child.” Sultae looked back to Zalee. “
The plague’s source is not the holy blood of our goddess, but in the metals used to harness its power.” She ran her hand over the bright collar at her throat. “Only the purest of platinum can host the power of Ree and not become corrupt.
Like the O’hra
your father
wore
,
and you as well
.
” She leered at Zalee.

“You say it as though it were so simple to determine.
Both
my father and I
became sick
despite the platinum of our O’hra
. No one escaped its touch, the plague passed on through our bonds as a people
regardless of the metal it was bound to
,” Zalee told her, her tone sharp. “It was simple luck that led us to discard the O’hra and escape the seep
of pure magic that
poisoned
us.” She motioned to Sultae’s O’hra with her chin. “This is the first I have heard that platinum contains magic better than
the
other metals.”

“Still you continue to lie.
Do you expect me to believe it was a coincidence the first generation Sha’ree and their followers wore platinum O’hra or went without? That those among us who railed against the decision to remain hidden in Ah Uto Ree were taught to forge O’hra of steel and bronze?”

“You disregard fact
in your zeal to cast blame
,
sister
,
” Zalee
hissed the last.
“
The platinum they wear was a gift from Ree, the rarest of metals only
to be found at the behest of the goddess
.
T
hat which they used was pushed from the earth at the time of their birth
and passed down the line from parent to child
.
We
wear it in tribute to
Ree
. Had you listened to your mentors, you might well have heard the truth long ago.”

“If that were true, why then do the Hespayrins
horde caverns of the
sac
red
metal? Does Ree value them more than the Sha’ree?”

Domor watched Zalee’s face reflect her uncertainty. She stared at Sultae without answering.

“It is because we have been lied to,” Sultae went on, her tone mocking. “Ree did not give us the secrets of the O’hra so we might skulk in the corners of the realm and with
er. She gave them to us so
we
could
rid
her
of the vermin that
sprung up from the agony of her great awakening.
She foresaw the sickness
, which
would spread across her flesh, and she provided the means for her chosen people to exterminate it, but we ignored her. We did nothing!” She leaned down to be face to face with Zalee. “The goddess sent the plague so we would suffer for our failure, so that we
c
ould feel some small measure of the torment our ignorance has caused her.” Sultae jabbed a pointed finger into Zalee’s naked chest. “Your father and those like him a
re
the reason
the goddess drifts away
from us
. She slumbers in her disappointment. Her
own
children have brought her low.”

Zalee met Sultae’s gaze without wavering, but Domor saw her hands trembling against the restraints.
The words
Sultae
spoke
seemed to bother her. Her eyes drifted to the O’hra that shimmered at Sultae’s chest. “I-I believe you speak false,” she said after a long pause.

“It no longer matters what you believe,” Sultae answered. “Forces have been set in motion to right what has been allowed to become so wrong.”

Zalee’s eyes widened. “You
led the Grol to the O’hra.” A chill prickled Domor’s nape at the
revelation
.

Sultae smiled. “The Grol are only the beginning. Soon, the rest of the beasts will turn and go to war. Chaos will reign and they will do what the Sha’ree should have done long ago. When they are weakened, their violence and numbers spent, I will raze what is left and free the goddess of the pestilence that so wearies her. I will repopulate the Sha’ree race and ensure we never again lose sight of that which is
most important: our goddess
.”

Domor shifted against the cold, uncomfortable stone of the floor. Sultae looked to him as though she had forgotten he was
there. Her smile gave him no comfort.

“Illraine,” she called out. The door to the room swung open before the echoes of her
voice
faded. The massive woman trundled inside. “Take the Velen to the forge and secure him there. I have questions to ask of Zalee, and I would not be disturbed.”

The Hespayrin pulled Domor to his feet
, loosing his restraints,
and marched him from the room. He cast a quick glance back at Zalee and
mouthed an apology, though he knew there was nothing he could do. She nodded, as if she understood, and said farewell with her eyes. The door slammed shut as he was dragged down the stone corridor.

He heard Zalee’s screams ring out.
Terror welled inside.

Vorrul paced behind the lines of his army. The Bloodpack stood in ranks nearby, the armored palanquin
, which
stored the majority of their stolen O’hra
,
rested inside their protective circle. They waited for the warlord’s orders as he wore a path in the grass. He stared off
at
the jungle, its lush greenery silent except for the rustle of leaves in the slight breeze
.

He’d come so far, accomplished so much, but he could not shake the flutter of
nervousness
that soured his stomach. The Lathahns had been a force to reckon with, but they’d always had their walls to hide behind.
It’s what made them strong, but t
he Pathra had never needed walls. They came at their enemies from the trees, from all directions, javelins and swords taking their toll before the cats returned to cover to start the process all over. They were fast and merciless, and worse still, they were fearless.
There was also the issue of the magic-wielding Lathahn and his Sha’ree accomplice. If they were in Pathrale, as he suspected, their knowledge and power might well turn the tide against Vorrul.

He
knew he couldn’t just walk into Pathrale and claim victory
with such enemies against him
—at least not easily. He also couldn’t burn them out. The Tumult had brought the rains and further moistened the trees and soil. He was certain he could set a few blazes thanks to the magical fire of the staves, but he was far from confident he could wreak the necessary havoc to break the Pathrans’ will.
With the Ruhr and Yvir against their back, Vorrul felt he could count on the Pathran warriors to hold strong to keep from being pushed from their land. Both sides knew where the Pathra’s best hope lay.

“Should we begin the attack?” Morgron asked, coming to stand at his side. “The soldiers grow impatient.”

Vorrul turned to look at the general, his teeth bared. “Let them wait a while, but have the Bloodpack prepare the staves.” He pointed to the silent jungle. “The cats wait for us, ready to pounce. We could spend the whole of our forces in the trees and still not come close to defeating the Pathra. There is too much land, too many places for the meat to hide and spring traps.” He shook his head. “No, we will grind them down, set fire to their homes
,
and
whittle at their numbers until I’m certain we can press the advantage without risking our relics.”

Morgron nodded and called out to the pack. “Ready the staves for battle!”

The Bloodpack raced to obey, opening the locked palanquin and pulling forth the mystical relics that would rain death upon their enemy. After just a moment, a handful of Grol warriors stood to the side of their warlord, the golden staves out and ready.

Vorrul ignored them. He stared off at the rustling branches and clenched his teeth. Every enemy he faced down was yet another challenge to his superiority over the pack. He could afford no failures and yet he saw the possibility of such lurking in the jungle ahead. This was not an enemy he could overcome with superior numbers, nor could he force the Pathrans
and their allies
to emerge and be confident
of
victory. He was under no illusion the pack were better warriors than the cats. Time and time again the Pathra had proven their ferocity and skill on the field of battle, and far too often it had been the Grol left dead or sent scampering home.
The empowered Lathahn and Sha’ree had shown the same fortitude.