Page 55 of The Cruel Dawn
“Let them go,” I demand, knowing that he won’t, not until he gets what he came here for.
“You have something that belongs to me,” he says, fire and ice blending in his voice.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing on Vallendor that you can rightfully claim.”
“TheLibrum Esotericalongs to be at home. Give it back to me.”
“I gave that book to Syrus Wake,” I say. “It belongs tohimnow.”
…
On that day, we stood in the heart of Brithellum, in an open arena with high archways framing the sky. TheLibrum Esotericarested on a pedestal of polished obsidian, casting its light across Syrus Wake’s face.
Priests and Renrian scholars, including Veril, Separi, and Adjudicator Saerahil Fynal, had assembled to witness Syrus Wake, twenty summers old, kneel before me.
TheLibrum Esotericahad levitated between my hands as I said, “Syrus Wake, you stand at the threshold of greatness. This book is the key to the wisdom of the ages but also carries the burden of truth. You, young king, are entrusted to guard it, to seek its counsel, and to wield it not for power, but for balance and understanding, for the protection of your people.”
As soon as Wake’s fingers closed around the book, the gem WISDOM flared with brilliant light. A matching silver band with an indention that matched WISDOM’S size formed around the new king’s left ring finger.
“It will not open for ambition nor will it open for pride,” I’d warned him. “It will yield only to those who seek knowledge for the sake of the realm, and even then, only in times of great need. Remember this, my chosen king.”
…
But that was then, and this…this is fucked up.
“Syrus Wake belongs tome,” Danar Rrivae now says. “But rest easy, Kaivara. I came to bargain with you, not to fight.”
Those owl-hare creatures hop away from their log and over to Danar Rrivae, Jamart, and Lively.
“These creatures shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, gripping my dagger tighter. “Not in this field of lesser creatures. Not on Vallendor.” I pause, then ask, “What are they?”
“Minulles,” the traitor says. He clucks his tongue.
The creatures look at him and call back—and that call sounds like its name. Men-yool.Other owl-hares hop out of their underground dens and purr to each other. Men-yool.Men-yool.Then they corner a field mouse and eat her.
“See?” Danar Rrivae says. “Good riddance. No one likes mice.”
“That field mouse dug burrows that kept the soil loose. She spreads seeds and scavenges and—” I glare at the traitor. “This is what you do: destroy order.”
“Funny coming from you, ofallgods.” His hand leaves Jamart’s head and slips down to the man’s neck.
“I saw your new creatures lurking around the Sea of Devour,” I say, my pulse racing, eyes on the traitor’s hand. “They flew with leather wings. Brought beasts that I’d slain back to life. How did they do that?”
Danar Rrivae chuckles but doesn’t answer my question. His amulet, a twisting red-tipped vine of moving metal, glows against his black tunic.
“You destroy order,” I say, “but you keep chaos flourishing.”
“Who are you to accuse me of destruction and chaos,Destroyer?” He laughs and adds, “They call you ‘Maelstrom’ in Caburh. Did you know that?” His other hand now disappears into Lively’s tangled blond hair.
“That’s just one of the many names I’m called. And what do those in Caburh callyou?”
His face turns hard as stone.
“They call you nothing, since they credit me for all of your…” I wave my hand at the minulles. “How awful for you, to do all this work for a Diminished Mera to get the glory.”
The traitor’s rage makes more mist that crawls over my skin like oil.
“Let the candlemaker and his daughter go,” I say, “and I will personally write a song just for you. I’ll make children learn the words, and they’ll sing it at festivals and…”
