Elemental (26 page)

Something more, and yet not enough.

There wasn’t a single moment when I deluded
myself into thinking I could actually win; that wasn’t the point,
at least not for me. If Meir had to die because I was supposedly
important enough to this “god,” then I would at least cause him
some discomfort. But it seemed I wasn’t even going to get a chance
to do that.

The Kofra guided me with his entourage
behind us to an open room. Marble benches lined the walls, with a
single table for two centered beneath an open skylight. The white
walls glowed orange under the sunset. Tarmean soldiers broke
formation and filed along the walls, never taking their rifles off
me. The Kofra and I continued toward the table with the three
hounds and their masters at our sides. One of the hounds snapped
his jaws just a hand-width from my head before his master yanked
him back.

I took a deep breath to calm my growing
nerves and sat down at the offered seat, behind a plate of food.
The Kofra sat across from me.

He gestured to the plate. “Please eat. You
must be starving.”

Ha! Starving! I’d been starving for the last
ten years of my life and
now
a Mamood cared? He could watch
me starve.

On second thought, the steaming meat and
vegetables did look rather good, and I was pretty hungry. I wasn’t
doing it for him, though. There was just no point in suffering out
of spite.

I cut off a slice of the meat and nibbled.
So it was fairly delicious. He still wasn’t going to get an ounce
of my gratitude. I took a large bite and washed it down with a
glass of water.

The Kofra smiled.

I paused and waved my hand over the table.
The chain hanging off my wrist sent my goblet of water to the floor
to shatter into dozens of little crystal pieces. “Why are you doing
this? We both know you’re just going to kill me anyway.”

He raised his eyebrows. “True.”

I waited.

“It’s a strenuous ceremony for all parties.
Manoo needs you to be at your strongest. It would serve no one if
you died prematurely.”

“Nice.”

He cocked his head. “You seem angry.”

“I wonder why.” By the quizzical look on the
Kofra’s face, I guessed he really did wonder. Perhaps he lived a
sheltered life where martyrdom was a daily norm. “I don’t want to
die.”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“You’re not the only one who’s going to die
tonight, Ella.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that he knew
my name—he was the one to give my name to the
Sho’ful
guards, after all—but it did. “What do you mean?”

“I, too, am being sacrificed.” He looked off
to the side and smiled.

“Why?”

He turned his dark, brown eyes back to me.
“A human body is too weak for someone as great as Manoo to dwell in
without destroying it.” He leaned across the table. “So you see,
two will fall tonight so our great Lord may live to spread his
light upon all of humanity.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?” The man was brainwashed. There was no
other explanation.

“Tell me. You follow El, don’t you?” he
said.

“I guess… yes.”

He smiled again like he was humoring a
simple-minded child. “Do you think El loves you?”

“I would have to say He probably does. He
saved me from the Mamood, after all.”

The Kofra chuckled and shook his head. “Do
you speak with him often?”

I knew why he laughed; I wasn’t exactly
saved at the moment. “He’s talked to me a couple of times.” I
didn’t know where the Kofra was going with this, but I was starting
to get worried.

“Manoo speaks to me every day. He personally
appointed me as his head priest to guide his children in our holy
crusade.” The Kofra placed his hand on mine as it rested on the
table. “He spoke to me just before you arrived, encouraging me in
my duty tonight. Has El said anything to you since you were
recaptured? Do you know his plan?”

A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed past
it, but it swelled and pushed until I could barely breathe.

“Do not be upset.” He rubbed his thumb along
my wrist. “El has remained absent for many years, content to let
humanity degrade with no help and no guidance. That’s the only
rebellion Manoo is guilty of; he could not just stand by and watch
us dwindle down to nothing, warring without end and to no
purpose.”

“But you brought death to an innocent
nation. As we speak, your people are attacking and killing the
Soltakians.”

“We bring war only to the guilty, those who
refuse to fall under Manoo’s light. They were trying to protect
you—his Destructor.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine the evil
that would be allowed to reign if we had allowed you to grow into
your potential? Your very title gives evidence to the evil El
endorses.”

I ripped my hand away and leaned away from
him. My veins went numb. Was he right? Was everything I’d come to
believe a lie? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. The only truth
I’d ever known was that the Mamood were evil. I’d embraced the
title and duty of Destructor because it was something I’d wanted.
Even now I recalled my joy as I’d burned the woman and her shop, as
I’d nearly ripped apart the Delsa-Prime, and even as I’d attacked
my own friends. I’d been happy, embracing the fury within me.

“You’re not the hero in this story, Ella,”
he said, echoing my thoughts. “You’re the villain.”

I shook my head. No, it couldn’t be true. I
rose from my seat and backed away. The edges of my vision darkened.
My chains rattled as I stuck my arm out, sure I was about to fall.
All three hounds snapped their jaws and clawed at the marble floor.
Every rifle hummed, ready to fire.

“No,” I said. “No.”

The Kofra waved them off and came to stand
next to me. “It will be all right. Soon evil will be purged. Your
willing sacrifice will be noted in our histories and honored for
all time.”

I searched his warm, brown eyes but found
nothing false in them. He believed what he was saying. As I thought
of all the people who’d still be alive if not for me—Meir, the
shopkeeper, all the people killed in the raid as I’d used them like
a shield—I found myself starting to believe it, too. I was the evil
one, the one who craved destruction and death, the cause of so much
suffering. I needed to die.

The boy wiped away a tear from my eye and
smiled. “It’s time.”

Chapter
Twenty-One
:

Love

My gaze drifted upward to the skylight;
nothing but deep blue night stared back at me. The sun had set and
Manoo was ready. Perhaps I would’ve once taken this as a sign of
Manoo’s deception—performing his tasks only in the shadows—but with
the Kofra’s words still echoing in my ears and his raptor gaze
still on me, I could not.

A soldier undid my chains, letting them
clatter on the floor, before he grabbed my arm and led me away from
the Kofra, out of the round room, past the hall, and through the
palace’s rear grounds to Manoo’s temple. More soldiers formed rank
around me. I didn’t struggle, though with the energy bracelets gone
I could’ve escaped if I’d wanted to. But at the moment, I didn’t
want to. I couldn’t think enough to want to. Though I tried, my
mind could find no argument against the Kofra. I was a murderer, a
monster—not good, not a savior.

A Destructor.

Meir was dead because of me and no one else.
My hands had let go of him in order to save myself. My evil had
brought the Mamood to defend their right to live. And I’d blamed
and hurt others for what was my doing all along. A hole formed deep
within my soul, killing all sense of feeling. There was only the
truth: I deserved to die. I didn’t fight the Tarmean soldiers as
they led me up marble steps to a flat platform at the top of the
temple because I
wanted
to die.

Other people stood there, waiting off to the
side in white robes. In the center of the platform a tall stone
slab rose out of the floor. An empty trench surrounded the slab and
ran off in a straight line toward the front of the platform, facing
the city. There it broke off into different directions, forming
loops and swirls until all the narrow trenches led to a shallow,
silver bowl.

Another Tarmean soldier broke rank to join
my escort. Both dug their hands into my forearms and pulled me
toward the slab. A roar that thudded through my bones erupted from
the city as I came into view. Hundreds of thousands—perhaps
millions—of torch-carrying people crowded around the palace for
miles, screaming and jumping. I looked away, but the sound even
made the stone beneath my feet rumble.

I couldn’t pick out any words, but the
message was clear: they were rejoicing over my impending death. The
small crowd allowed to watch on the platform must have consisted of
rather important people. Unlike those in the city, this crowd stood
silent and motionless.

Did they have a better sense of the gravity
of the situation? Did they understand how much I hated myself?
Probably not. The twisting guilt in my stomach told me I deserved
affection and sympathy from no one.

The Kofra stepped onto the platform from the
left side, just behind the group of white-clad nobles. They bobbed
their heads and parted for him. He’d changed out of his burgundy
robes into a silver cloak that shimmered under the light of the
moon.

Without even looking in my direction, he
glided past me with his eyes glazed over and stopped in front of
the silver bowl. The crowd in the city erupted into a new kind of
frenzy, overshadowing the one from before. My arms twitched to
bring my hands up to my ears, but my guards’ fingers tightened.
Even the small group just a few feet away betrayed their emotions
by mumbling amongst each other.

The Kofra bowed his head and dropped
something into the bowl. Flames erupted with a pop and everyone
fell immediately silent. The hush over the city was even more
bone-chilling than the thunderous roar. Something important was
about to happen, and I had a feeling I didn’t want to be there when
it did.

No
. I wanted this. I wanted the
destruction to stop.

My guards’ hands twisted around my arms,
cutting off the blood. Pins and needles prickled down my limbs, but
I didn’t care. Something much worse was coming.

The Kofra fell onto his stomach and stayed
completely still. No one breathed.

One, two, three seconds passed and then his
body started to flop around as the Kofra’s psyche battled Manoo’s.
Only one could win, and everyone knew who that was going to be.

And then it stopped, and Manoo in the
Kofra’s body turned to face me.

My breath caught in my throat. The eyes were
completely different—still dark brown and intense, but no longer
innocent. The one staring at me behind those eyes was filled with a
knowledge and understanding of fury I could only ever imagine.

“Hello,” he hissed. I didn’t think it was
possible to hiss a greeting, but Manoo managed it. Every subtle
movement of the Kofra’s body was twisted into something altogether
ugly. I knew instantly that the boy behind the body was already
dead.

Someone coughed in the city below us; the
sound echoed off the walls until it faded and everything was once
again silent.

Rather than wait for me to respond to him,
Manoo motioned to the group of witnesses on the platform. One man
stepped forward with a knife and silver cup. The man was hooded,
his face was cast in shadow, but my stomach twisted as soon as he
came up behind me and removed my cloak. There was something
sinister and familiar about the way he moved.

Manoo dipped his finger into the cup. It
sizzled as the scent of cooking meat wafted its way to my nose. He
didn’t even flinch.

I clenched my jaw, waiting.

After a pointed look from Manoo, the guard
on my right straightened out my arm and held fast.

Manoo withdrew his finger from the now
smoking cup and let it hover just above my arm. Already, I could
feel the heat radiating above me, ready to scorch my flesh.

“First, I will write the ancient spells in
oil, burning them into your flesh. After we have placed you on the
altar, I will write them in your blood, binding your soul inside
your body.”

He pressed his finger onto my arm and swept
it around. Every nerve ending in my skin screamed as the hot oil
seeped in and cooked me. I screamed as I tried to pull away, but
the guards’ hold on me only tightened.

Time seemed to slow as I drowned in the
pain. More times than I could count, I was nearly crushed with the
blackness, but just as I was about to feel the sweet release of
nonexistence, someone splashed water on my face to pull me out of
it.

Manoo wouldn’t let me die. He wouldn’t even
let me pass out. I needed to feel it all—every last drop of oil
that burned its way through my skin down to my muscle.

Before long, my whole body was on fire,
sizzling and popping. Even the cool night air offered no release.
Every breeze on my skin only inflamed the pain, making it radiate
down to my bones.

Someone was talking, though I’d long ago
ceased to really pay attention. But this voice was burned into my
brain the way the oil was burned into my skin: Manoo. He was giving
instructions to the cloaked man behind me.

“I must cut off her left wing first,” Manoo
said to the man as he grabbed the knife. “Be careful not to let any
of the precious drilium fall to the floor.”

My head swam as my mind tried to reason
through his words. One thing was for certain—I was about to feel
more pain. But somehow I knew this pain would be different.

My wings. They were my only escape. In the
back of my mind I knew if I ever really wanted to leave, I still
had a chance. But if he took my wings, I’d be a victim in every
sense of the word.