Lives of Kings (12 page)

Kian listened, staring into his cup of strong liquid and biting the inside of his cheek until it bled. Magician explained everything that had happened, repeating some parts twice. He told Stone about how he had found Kian in the forest and what kind of deal they had struck.

Stone glanced at Kian but didn't say anything about the Riada.

Kian began to realize this man was not like Magician. He was less predictable and harder to read, which made him even more dangerous. As Magician spoke, there came another knock on the door. Stone disappeared to answer it and came back with another man. This one rushed in and stared at Magician and Kian almost greedily.

“So it is true!” he exclaimed. He was slightly taller than Stone, though still shorter than Magician. His hair was beginning to thin, but he wore the same type of clothing as Stone, a jacket and pants of the same shiny grey over a white shirt.

“Donald,” Stone said, “this is Kian. You remember the youngest son of the high king, all grown up?”

The man named Donald gave a slight bow. Kian couldn't tell if it was sarcastic.

“Hello,” he said formally. “I'm Donald Leigh. I think you have a story I should hear.”

Kian was about to reply that he didn't, but Stone pressed Magician to begin the story anew. And so Kian had his failures retold all over again. When Magician was done for the second time, he huffed.

“Now will someone please tell me how much time has passed?” he asked.

Stone and Donald looked at each other.

“About two thousand years,” Stone said finally.

Both Magician and Kian sat back in awe. The ritual had been a lot more powerful than either of them had suspected.

“What is left of our people?” asked Magician.

“Nothing,” Donald replied, anger rising in his voice. Stone flashed him a warning glance.

“There is nothing of the Godelan?” asked Magician, as if to make sure he understood correctly.

“Worse,” Stone replied. “There is nothing of any of the tribes. Not the Godelan, not the Riada, and not anyone else.”

“What happened?”

“Two thousand years,” replied Stone as if it was obvious.

“No,” Donald cut in. “It was the Romans. They conquered all civilizations in the Western world, erased them, and became the world of today. At least the wealthy world.”

Kian was anxious to cut in and ask how big the world truly was, but the man named Donald seemed erratic and spoke angrily. Kian decided he would tread lightly around this one, and bide his time. While he was sure that Stone was dangerous, Donald went from calm to raging in a breath. If anyone would kill first and ask questions later, it would be him.

“For years,” Donald continued, “we wondered how the Romans had defeated the Riada and their warriors. But if what you say is true, if they followed us into death rather than defend our people, the seven are to blame. They are not only responsible for our deaths, but for the Roman victory.”

Kian hated himself for remaining quiet. He listened to the three men discuss their past, nursing his drink and feeling as if he was falling further and further away from his goal. He was treading deep in the hate and evil that the Godelan caused.

These three men had once been loyal to his father but wanted power. He could only listen in horror as they spoke about gaining magic from people's souls and their failed experiments with raising the dead. It was a while before they remembered him again.

“So, Kian,” Stone said, “how will you help us find the seven warriors?”

He said it while resting on the arm of the sofa as if he was asking about the weather. Kian was stunned into silence. He had no answer. Luckily, Magician answered for him.

“We don't know what form they are in,” he said. “Or where they are. All we know is that he can recognize them. When the time will come for any one of them to use enough magic to trace, I can use the spell I used to find you and send Kian to fetch them.”

“Why don't we go ourselves and destroy them?” Donald asked.

As Stone sighed his disappointment with Donald's foolishness, Kian realized just how dangerous he was.

“Because,” Magician said, “they may recognize us and use magic against us. If they have their full memories, they'll be stronger than us.”

“Stronger than you, maybe,” Donald retorted. “We've been harnessing the magic of the earth for as long as we've been here, pulling up every magical root we can find.”

Magician seemed confused. “Why?”

“Our revenge.” Donald waved his hands as if revenge was an item sitting in the living room with them. “The Romans destroyed one thousand years of our people. We will destroy two thousand of theirs. We can use the earth magic to create enough chaos to gain control — and with the magic of the seven, the destruction will be swift and complete. In that chaos, all the other truths of this world will fall away until only magic will be powerful. And we will be the only ones with it.”

“You want to rule the world?” Magician asked. His brows were furrowed. Kian supposed Magician had wanted something similar, but the Earth was much bigger now than it was in their time.

Magician was having trouble imagining it.

“Why not?” asked Donald. “When everything they count on has been destroyed, we can have our own time again.”

“That's insane,” Kian said. The words tumbled out of his mouth of their own accord. All three men, including Stone, who had been silent, turned to him.

“No,” Stone said. “It is unfinished business. But Donald is being a little dramatic. We won't destroy the world and send it back into pre-history. We also won't need to kill your kind.”

“You won't?” Kian asked. He looked skeptically at Magician, who was still trying to play catch-up as best he could.

“No,” said Stone. “I, unlike my brethren, think in the long term. And in the long term, by the time we're able to find any of the seven, they will be starting to gain magic. Our old friend is right — they will be stronger than us if they get everything back. But if the process takes time, we can nurture them, provoke them to ignite the magic, and when they are strong again, we will take it.”

Kian knew he would regret asking, but he had to know. “How?”

“The same way we once did it,” Stone said.

Kian didn't know what this was but didn't want to ask either. When Stone saw uncertainty playing across his face, he shrugged. “It's either take their magic or kill them. Which would you rather us do?”

Kian squeezed his fist together until the nails were biting into his palm. “And then I can have my brother?”

“Yes,” Magician said.

“And we can go home?”

“Yes,” Magician repeated.

The other two exchanged a glance, and for a moment Kian was worried they would interject and change the agreement. He was hardly in a position to bargain. But they nodded.

As the magicians talked late into the night, Kian was excused to wander the house and make his way to the guest bedroom. Despite the relative freedom, he reminded himself he was a prisoner. This was not the deal he had agreed to.

The room was warm and the bed was the most comfortable thing he had ever lain on. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and he longed for sleep as an escape from his constant misery. He had joined the enemy and betrayed his tribe.

Kian lay on his back, eyes wide open. He could only stare at the ceiling and replay all of his mistakes over and over.

Finally, he couldn't stand it. He opened the window until the room became freezing cold and lay on the floor next to the bed. He would not allow himself to sink into the luxury they offered him. It came at a terrible price.

Kian lay on the hardwood and repeated to himself, over and over again, that he was a prisoner, that his people were in grave danger, and that he would always try to help them in any way he could. No matter how long it took.

After another few hours of shivering on the floor, sleep still eluded him. He decided to wander the house again. Perhaps he would find something to offer him a way out of this mess.

The house was old and every stair creaked. Kian tiptoed as much as he could, but he knew nothing about being quiet in a modern house. He paced and stopped to listen, just as he had while he hunted in the forest.

The first room he came to was where Stone must have written letters since there were paper and books everywhere. A wide table with only one chair behind it held more information than Kian could take in. A window showed the city below. Taking in the expanse, Kian couldn't imagine how many people occupied the thousands of lights he could see in the distance.

Next, he found the kitchen. He walked to the end of the long room, where several metal boxes hummed and showed the time. He briefly wondered why people here needed so many reminders about the time. Probably because they were busy; that was why they moved so quickly.

Kian had just decided there was nothing here for him when he passed a metal bar hanging on the wall. The bar had several large knives stuck to it as if by magic. The knives ranged from long to wide, but they all looked deadly sharp.

Kian tried to see how firmly affixed they were to the bar and was surprised when one came off with ease. He felt the weight. It was heavy. He ran his thumb along the end and a thin line of blood appeared. He ignored the searing pain. His mind didn't have time for pain. Kian considered his options.

He could find all three men and stab them in the heart. He would have lost his tribe but at least rid the world of the Godelan once and for all and spared the seven. But Kian realized there was no way he would have the time to kill all of them before one would overpower him with magic. So he could try to kill one — but then he'd be dead and the other two would still be after the seven. They'd probably be even crueller to them, especially his brother, in revenge for Kian's actions.

Another option occurred to him: he could kill himself. He would be free from his misery, and it would be a start in attempting to atone for leaving his tribe and the death of Adar. He would also then never help the Godelan find any of his people, which would give them a chance to develop their memories and full magic before being found.

Kian brought the blade up to his neck and felt the pinch as it met skin. A hundred different scenarios ran through his head as he tried to reason that the seven, including his brother, would be better off if he wasn't in their way. However, a small voice of reason told him otherwise.

His conscience told him that to live and search for them would be better atonement than death for his betrayal of the Riada. It also told him that alive he could try to help the seven and prepare them, even if it had to be under the watchful eye of the Godelan. Without him, they could be caught unaware, and then nothing would protect them.

Slowly, he put the knife back onto the metal bar and let out a deep breath, continuing his search of the house.

Voices came from a room at the back, closed off from the hall by a set of double doors. Kian crept to it, listening. The Godelan reminiscing of their pasts and horrible deeds hadn't interested Kian in the least; in fact, it had made him feel even worse. Now, however, they spoke of the seven.

The three Godels spoke of their vulnerability, and Kian heard Stone thank Magician for the warning. Their voices were too muffled for Kian to hear more. He snuck closer and pushed lightly on one of the double doors, hoping it would not make a sound.

He was lucky. It swung open just enough for him to hear and peek through. His heart raced.

The three men ignored the fire burning in the hearth and instead had emptied a bin and lit another fire in it. Each one held a small wooden box open in front of him. Kian recognized the three boxes as some of the trinkets Magician had brought with him. He wondered how many other valuable things Magician had played off as worthless artifacts during Kian's time with him.

“We have to get rid of them,” Stone said. “Now that we know the seven are here, we cannot risk keeping them.” He turned to Magician. “Should we be worried about the boy?”

“He is powerless,” Magician replied. “He can do nothing.”

Kian's mind backtracked through everything he had heard that night, but he couldn't imagine what the three were trying to hide. He resolved to find out what was inside those boxes.

“Once we do this,” Magician warned, “there is no going back.”

Donald let out a short, mirthless laugh. “I think we've already made those commitments,” he said. “Let's get this done.”

As if on cue, all three dumped the contents of their boxes into the fire. But even as the boxes were turned upside down, nothing fell out of them. Some specks of dirt went into the fire, but otherwise they were empty.

Still, the fire roared to life and the house began to shake. Kian tumbled to the side, losing his footing, but the noise of the old house settling was enough to keep him hidden. Suddenly a sound like all the air being sucked out of the room forced him closer to the door but also froze him in place.

The Godelan were immobilized. Kian scolded himself for leaving the knife in the kitchen. If he had kept it, he could have killed them all now. Instead he was glued to the gap between the doors, watching. Would the spell kill them?

It gripped them for over a minute before Kian saw the first signs of anything taking place. Slowly, painfully, shadows seemed to be torn away from the men and sucked into the little wooden box each of them carried. As the last of the shadow was encased, the lids snapped shut. The fire immediately sank back to normal and the three emerged from their strange state, gasping for air and gripping their chests.

“That was more painful than I thought it would be,” Donald admitted. “I feel strange.”

“Of course you do,” Stone told him, gripping his own box with both hands close to his heart. “There's a part of you missing.”

“What shall we do with them?” Magician asked.