Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

Then Perri’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t go after them. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“It’s good that you didn’t,” Navi said gently into the shocked silence, her face hard as stone. “He might have hurt you to get away.”

“I will kill him.” Simon’s anger was so complete it numbed him, reduced him to a man incapable of moving. His mind buzzed and snarled—every instinct he possessed, every lesson that had been beaten into him, flooding him with the desire to inflict violence. “I’ll find them, and I’ll kill him where he stands.”

“Please don’t,” Remy said, his voice breaking. He tugged at Simon’s hand. “We’ll find them. They can’t have gone far. Harkan was probably just afraid. He wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she was trying to leave again, and he had to stop her.”

“She would try to flee, leaving you behind? Impossible.”

And then Simon’s path became clear to him.

He detached himself from Remy’s grip, placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders, and leaned down to look him in the eye. Navi would try to stop him from taking Remy, as would Hob, as would all of them.

They would fail.

“Do you trust me?” he asked Remy, gentling his voice. Even in his fury, it was an easy thing to do—to slip into that cunning silver world of lies in which he had been raised since landing in this future, all those years ago.

Behind Simon, the war room doors opened once more, admitting Prince Malik, Commander Haakorat, and two other soldiers, each of them spattered with mud and blood. They hurried to the table, Malik consulting in furious whispers with the kings.

Remy watched them, biting his lip. “Malik doesn’t look happy. Do you think the city will fall?”

“Answer me.” Simon turned Remy back to face him. “Do you trust me, Remy?”

“El would say I shouldn’t,” Remy replied after a moment, and then his expression flattened in a way Simon had never seen before. “Which probably means I should.”

“Good boy. If we move quickly, we can find them, catch up with her and Harkan before they slip into the wild for good. And if you’re there with me, I’ve got a better chance of either changing his mind or turning her against him.”

Remy considered him gravely. “Will you hurt me to get her back?”

Simon only paused for a moment. There was no point in lying to the boy, and telling him the truth, as harsh as it was, would perhaps further engender his trust. “I don’t want to, but if I must, I will.”

Remy glanced over Simon’s shoulder. “Navi’s watching us.”

“Answer me quickly, then.”

The boy’s bright-blue eyes locked with Simon’s own for a long moment. Then he lifted his sharp little chin, squaring his jaw in the same way Eliana so often did. “I’ll do it.”

Simon gave him a tight smile. “Hold on to me, and close your eyes. When I run, you run too.”

Then he reached into his pocket, withdrew three tiny black smokers, and flung them to the floor. They cracked open with a trio of sharp pops, filling the room with smoke. Hob’s deep voice bellowed a curse. Navi called out Simon’s name. Guards drew their weapons, coughing, the metallic scrape of their swords ringing in the swirling darkness.

Simon ran, trusting Remy to keep up. At the door, he smashed his fists into the jaws of two guards obstructing their path. Their bodies slumped to the floor. He snatched one of their swords, and a dagger from the nearest one’s belt, and thrust the latter at Remy.

The boy grabbed the weapon, and together they fled back through the war room tunnels to a castle full of shattered windows and screaming servants. The sound of nearing gunfire punctuated the air, and Simon refused to think about bullets piercing Eliana’s body, or cannon fire blasting her to bits, or how he should have taken her away from this place as soon as she had forged her castings.

Instead, his thoughts glided into the comfortable rhythm of the Prophet’s teachings, the years of training and conditioning he had endured in that frigid compound under the mountain, the long, brutal dark his life had been before finding Eliana in Orline. Three soldiers pursued them from the war room. He pulled the revolver from his hip and shot them each through the skull. Remy cried out in protest, but Simon shoved him onward.

With every slam of his boots against the floor, his mind chanted one furious word—a curse, a plea, a prayer.

Eliana. Eliana. Eliana.

21

Navi

“To anyone who may read this, the last writing of my life, it must be known that I fought for my country alongside my beloved husband, Eri, and my dear friend Ama. Beside my commanders, I defended my city with all breath left in me. My kingdom may fall, but the Empire will soon burn at the hands of the Sun Queen.”

—A message from King Tavik Amaruk of Astavar, confiscated by invading imperial forces, September 6, Year 1018 of the Third Age

Navi could no longer keep quiet.

“We are cowards,” she murmured into the darkness, Ruusa’s torch the only thing illuminating their path through the tunnels below Dyrefal.

Beside her, Malik said nothing, his tense silence vibrating like the furious echo of a drum.

“You are not cowards,” Hob replied. In the torchlight, his dark skin gleamed, night-limned with gold. “You are the leaders of your people, and when the dust settles, they will look to you for guidance. They will find you, wherever you land in the days to come, and help you rebuild.”

“I should be out there fighting alongside them,” Malik bit out. “Not scurrying away through the darkness like a frightened rat.”

“And what good would it do, if you were to die?” Hob ducked beneath a low stone archway. “Two of the royal children dead, and the other three halfway across the world. No kings, no crown. A scattered people, lost and leaderless. It was right for you to leave.”

Navi leaned on Ruusa’s arm, closing her eyes. Her head rocked as if she stood on the deck of a rolling ship.

Ruusa passed her torch to another guard in their escort. “My lady, shall I carry you?”

“Not yet, Ruusa,” Navi replied. “We’ve a long way to go. Save your strength.”

“A long way to go.” Malik let out a bark of harsh laughter. “That’s one way to put it.”

Navi found Malik’s hand. “Peace, brother.”

He ripped his hand away from her. “Peace! Peace, as our people are slaughtered above us, as our parents give up their lives to allow us time to flee!”

Navi moved unsteadily toward Malik. He met her halfway, catching her arms. Perri’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t go after them. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“It’s good that you didn’t,” Navi said gently into the shocked silence, her face hard as stone. “He might have hurt you to get away.”

“I will kill him.” Simon’s anger was so complete it numbed him, reduced him to a man incapable of moving. His mind buzzed and snarled—every instinct he possessed, every lesson that had been beaten into him, flooding him with the desire to inflict violence. “I’ll find them, and I’ll kill him where he stands.”

“Please don’t,” Remy said, his voice breaking. He tugged at Simon’s hand. “We’ll find them. They can’t have gone far. Harkan was probably just afraid. He wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she was trying to leave again, and he had to stop her.”

“She would try to flee, leaving you behind? Impossible.”

And then Simon’s path became clear to him.

He detached himself from Remy’s grip, placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders, and leaned down to look him in the eye. Navi would try to stop him from taking Remy, as would Hob, as would all of them.

They would fail.

“Do you trust me?” he asked Remy, gentling his voice. Even in his fury, it was an easy thing to do—to slip into that cunning silver world of lies in which he had been raised since landing in this future, all those years ago.

Behind Simon, the war room doors opened once more, admitting Prince Malik, Commander Haakorat, and two other soldiers, each of them spattered with mud and blood. They hurried to the table, Malik consulting in furious whispers with the kings.

Remy watched them, biting his lip. “Malik doesn’t look happy. Do you think the city will fall?”

“Answer me.” Simon turned Remy back to face him. “Do you trust me, Remy?”

“El would say I shouldn’t,” Remy replied after a moment, and then his expression flattened in a way Simon had never seen before. “Which probably means I should.”

“Good boy. If we move quickly, we can find them, catch up with her and Harkan before they slip into the wild for good. And if you’re there with me, I’ve got a better chance of either changing his mind or turning her against him.”

Remy considered him gravely. “Will you hurt me to get her back?”

Simon only paused for a moment. There was no point in lying to the boy, and telling him the truth, as harsh as it was, would perhaps further engender his trust. “I don’t want to, but if I must, I will.”

Remy glanced over Simon’s shoulder. “Navi’s watching us.”

“Answer me quickly, then.”

The boy’s bright-blue eyes locked with Simon’s own for a long moment. Then he lifted his sharp little chin, squaring his jaw in the same way Eliana so often did. “I’ll do it.”

Simon gave him a tight smile. “Hold on to me, and close your eyes. When I run, you run too.”

Then he reached into his pocket, withdrew three tiny black smokers, and flung them to the floor. They cracked open with a trio of sharp pops, filling the room with smoke. Hob’s deep voice bellowed a curse. Navi called out Simon’s name. Guards drew their weapons, coughing, the metallic scrape of their swords ringing in the swirling darkness.

Simon ran, trusting Remy to keep up. At the door, he smashed his fists into the jaws of two guards obstructing their path. Their bodies slumped to the floor. He snatched one of their swords, and a dagger from the nearest one’s belt, and thrust the latter at Remy.

The boy grabbed the weapon, and together they fled back through the war room tunnels to a castle full of shattered windows and screaming servants. The sound of nearing gunfire punctuated the air, and Simon refused to think about bullets piercing Eliana’s body, or cannon fire blasting her to bits, or how he should have taken her away from this place as soon as she had forged her castings.

Instead, his thoughts glided into the comfortable rhythm of the Prophet’s teachings, the years of training and conditioning he had endured in that frigid compound under the mountain, the long, brutal dark his life had been before finding Eliana in Orline. Three soldiers pursued them from the war room. He pulled the revolver from his hip and shot them each through the skull. Remy cried out in protest, but Simon shoved him onward.

With every slam of his boots against the floor, his mind chanted one furious word—a curse, a plea, a prayer.

Eliana. Eliana. Eliana.

21

Navi

“To anyone who may read this, the last writing of my life, it must be known that I fought for my country alongside my beloved husband, Eri, and my dear friend Ama. Beside my commanders, I defended my city with all breath left in me. My kingdom may fall, but the Empire will soon burn at the hands of the Sun Queen.”

—A message from King Tavik Amaruk of Astavar, confiscated by invading imperial forces, September 6, Year 1018 of the Third Age

Navi could no longer keep quiet.

“We are cowards,” she murmured into the darkness, Ruusa’s torch the only thing illuminating their path through the tunnels below Dyrefal.

Beside her, Malik said nothing, his tense silence vibrating like the furious echo of a drum.

“You are not cowards,” Hob replied. In the torchlight, his dark skin gleamed, night-limned with gold. “You are the leaders of your people, and when the dust settles, they will look to you for guidance. They will find you, wherever you land in the days to come, and help you rebuild.”

“I should be out there fighting alongside them,” Malik bit out. “Not scurrying away through the darkness like a frightened rat.”

“And what good would it do, if you were to die?” Hob ducked beneath a low stone archway. “Two of the royal children dead, and the other three halfway across the world. No kings, no crown. A scattered people, lost and leaderless. It was right for you to leave.”

Navi leaned on Ruusa’s arm, closing her eyes. Her head rocked as if she stood on the deck of a rolling ship.

Ruusa passed her torch to another guard in their escort. “My lady, shall I carry you?”

“Not yet, Ruusa,” Navi replied. “We’ve a long way to go. Save your strength.”

“A long way to go.” Malik let out a bark of harsh laughter. “That’s one way to put it.”

Navi found Malik’s hand. “Peace, brother.”

He ripped his hand away from her. “Peace! Peace, as our people are slaughtered above us, as our parents give up their lives to allow us time to flee!”

Navi moved unsteadily toward Malik. He met her halfway, catching her arms.