Eternal Darkness (A Novel of the Amagarians Book 1) (2 page)

“Father has people spying
on me?”

Her mother’s face softened. “Not spying,
Meishan
…after your argument, he
was concerned.”

“Concerned?” Saieke demanded. “He sold me to the
tyrant king.”

“We need an allegiance. There are many things you are not privy to about the danger and politics that surround this court and the other kingdoms. Your father had to make
terrible choices.”

“Then tell me,” she pleaded. “I am schooled in court life. Let me be a
part of—”

“There is no need to trouble yourself with the intrigues of court. When it is time for you to inherit, your father and I will impart all you would need to
be queen.”

She wondered if her mother was so wonderfully naïve. “If this blood oath is formalized mother, I will
never
be queen. King Ajali will be the ruler of our realm, and his law will be absolute. He may very well murder me after I have sired his heir to brook
no opposition.”

Her mother flinched. “I am sure King Ajali will treasure you. He pursued your father most ardently for your hand. In time, your union will blossom
to love.”

Love?
She was not interested in loving King Ajali or any other man. Love bred selfish desires...ones that could only bring ruin to her people. “We are speaking of the man who murdered
three thousands
of our people in one blow,” Saieke snapped harshly. “There will be nothing in my heart but enmity. He wants to rape our kingdom because we possess the elixir springs. He is a brutal king who will change the laws, will and spirit of our people. And when he does, my blade will pierce
his heart.”

If I
am alive
.

The silence that entered the room
was overpowering.

Icy smoothness settled on her mother’s face. It was Queen Izumi, not her mother, who stood. “King Ajali arrives at first light. You will comport yourself as the Princess of Boreas when you meet with him. I command you to give him
a chance.”

“And when is the
binding ceremony?”

“Your only concern is to confirm our promise when the High Bishop speaks,” the harsh voice of her father snapped through the room. With a flick of his fingers, he used the wind to slam the chamber
door shut.

Saieke stood. “Father, I—”

He flashed to her. “I will not hesitate to order you whipped for even thinking to disobey
my command.”

She hoped her eyes did not reveal the rebellion brewing in her heart. “Tales of King Ajali’s brutality are legendary. He will not care about me or
our people.”

Her father’s face closed even further. “You will present yourself at first light to greet your blood-bound king. If you are willful in any manner, you will be confined to the towers until you are summoned for
the ceremony.”

Pain sliced through her like a poison
tipped dagger.

The towers
. The cold, dank, and terrifying place her grandmother lived in exile until the end of her five hundred year sentence. There was a time Saieke had been allowed to visit, but those infrequent and precious times had been banned when her father discovered grandmother had urged Saieke to refuse the
Nurian king.

She nodded and moved with measured steps out of the chamber. She drew the wind to her, whispering words, infusing her message with intricate codes, and then allowed it to travel on the air with surety to Thyon
and Kamu.

Meet me in the
mountain caves.

The west wing parapet would have too many spies hovering. She inhaled and whistled. The iciest of wind swept through the corridors, and if anyone had been spying she should have felt the flash of surprise through
their
chakra
.

Saieke could waste no time debating impossible options or pleading with her parents. King Ajali’s arrival tomorrow would herald the end of her free movements in the castle. She would be guarded until she was forced to bend to his will. Her path, though uncertain,
was clear.

She would leave her kingdom tonight and be branded as
the betrayer.

***

Saieke gasped for breath in the thin mountain air as she raced through valleys, harnessing the wind to move at maximum speed. She’d escaped the castle with her two most trusted Queen’s Blades, Kamu and Thyon, her protectors from birth. They moved through the night without a whisper of sound to betray their passage through the mountain paths of Boreas. The mountains were intricate—death traps to those who did not know them and her Queen’s Blades maneuvered through the maze-like passes
as shadows.

They raced against time and discovery. Thyon loped ahead to scout, using whistles and patterns of the wind to notify them if warriors or civilians
lay ahead.

Melodious notes travelled on the wind, and she listened to their keen fluttering, seeking if danger awaited them. She ran along the mountain side’s crumbling stones, which clattered down to
the earth.

“Princess!”

She flashed behind a boulder. Kamu moved with stealth to the mountain’s edge, and after a brief moment, he signaled clear. “It is not too late to alter our course, Princess,”
he murmured.

She flinched; her feet shuffled crackling and crunching the leaves on the mountain path. The trees swayed, parting to reveal the sun, bringing the warmth she needed to thaw the cold knot of doubt that constricted her. “We will forge ahead. We must make it to the border before the rising of the second sun and before my father discovers we are missing,” she ordered with only a slight waver in
her conviction.

“As you wish, Princess.”

In a quick motion, they launched, flashing with speed, covering hundreds of miles. The second sun took much longer to rise as winter approached, giving the breaking dawn a bleak cast. Yet, the bleakness could not overshadow the enchantment of Boreas. She flashed pass waters as blue as the ice lakes of the northern mountains, lush valleys with rare flowers and plants of vibrant beauty. Their exotic scents calmed her racing heart and filled it with poignant sweetness. Unending minutes passed in silence before he pumped a fist in the air, and they jerked to
a stop
.

The flat lands seemed to stretch endlessly before mountains rose behind them, dark and intimidating. Taryllion—thousands of miles of land separating the borders of the seven kingdoms. Its mountains stood eerily silent, and the grey, stark, foggy landscape echoed her feelings. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the hovering sense
of dread.

“Are we prepared, Kamu?” Saieke asked, her gaze penetrating into wide eyes set in a granite
hewn face.

“As best as we can be, Princess.”

They scanned the horizon, probing for danger. Taryllion was vicious and harsh to maneuver, with hardly a position to hide and defend from attacks. Until they reached the mountains or ravines, they
were exposed.

Kamu rolled a scroll borrowed from the great archives of Boreas onto
a boulder.

“We will travel northwest through the ravines of Taryllion, Princess. We will meet with Thyon at the fifth mountain path. We must then move like shadows past the Darkage to the dimension gateway,” he said pointing to spots on
the map.

Her stomach knotted. She hated they had to move so close to the Darkage—the kingdom of shadows and darkness—to access the closest gateway to Earth. The other gateway was located east of Nuria, and during their quick conference in the mountain cave, they had deemed it more perilous to travel anywhere near the king from whom they
were fleeing.

But the Darkans were bestial. It seemed inconceivable that anything else could be considered
more perilous.

“Princess.”

At the gravity of his tone, she
faced him.

“I fear for your safety. I will not pretend I do not wish for
another solution.”

Saieke hardened her resolve. “King Ajali’s hands will not crush my kingdom through me.” The rush of rage burned the grief away, and she welcomed
its bite.

“At this moment, I am not apprehensive about the King of Nuria.” Kamu gauged her reaction. “The gateway only rests a few miles from the northern Darkage border. We must never forget the implications of moving so close to the dark ones’ domain.”

The Darkage inspired terror in all of the kingdoms. She had been avoiding thinking of them, not wanting the fear of their kind to prevent her from acting. She glanced toward their lands in the far distance, forcing her heart to beat in a steady rhythm. “Before we charted our journey we knew the dangers. We must not waver now. Our people lives depend
on us.”

“Darkans are also rumored to also live on Earth, devouring humans and
our kind.”

She winced. “We are faster, stronger, and more enhanced in every way than humans. I will defend our lives until we can return to
our kingdom.”

Anger flashed across his face. “Do not be foolish, Princess. I do not worry if you can defend us. We are your blades and our lives are yours. My fear is that Thyon and I are not adequate protection for you in this unknown world to which we
are heading.”

She understood. “Earth is our best choice. We will fade into obscurity there. Fleeing to another kingdom would certainly cause war. The Nurians would burn them to the ground if they dared
harbor me.”

To remain and refuse to honor an oath her king made could also be a death sentence, which could come from her family for bringing dishonor to the El Shyokara name, or from the Nurians who would see her actions as an insult to their king. But she would stay her course, for she was determined to protect her people at
all cost.

Finally, gentle flutters came on the wind, and Kamu turned toward Taryllion. “Thyon has signaled the lands appear to be
without danger.”

“I am ready,” she
said hoarsely.

“We need to pace ourselves so that our
chakras
are not drained. As we near the border of the Darkage, move with your full speed and power, Princess,” he bit out, scanning the horizon
for danger.

They flashed with determined purpose. She did not look back. Not once. She knew in her heart it was the last time she would see her kingdom. She did not need a fleeting glimpse to remind her of the beauty and joys they were leaving behind. It resounded in her mind and echoed in
her soul.

***

The Darkage—kingdom of darkness and shadows

Kerberos—Castle of the deep—main stronghold of the king

“There are murmurs of dissension,” Drac El Kyn reported to his king. He shifted, following Gidon’s progress across the cavernous room as he paced like a
caged predator.

His king’s lips curved into a smile even as the deep silver of his eyes turned to hardened flint. “From where does this dissension rise and what are
the murmurings?”

“It is said that you are only five
centi
old and not strong enough to rule our people. It is whispered that you are only in power because it is your heir-ship,” Drac said. “There are also whispers of the Kingmaker promising a new ruler for
the Darkage.”

Gidon’s step faltered and met Drac’s gaze. The Kingmaker was a shadow in Amagarie, lauded for his brilliance and cunning. He was without loyalty to any kingdom or king. A man most dangerous, a man whose identity had been a mystery for centuries, but whenever he stirred,
destruction ensued.

Gidon strode to the fireplace and stared into the roaring fire. Its flickering cast the sigil of the ruling family—the Cerberus—a ferocious three headed gargoyle mounted above the war throne in a
menacing glow.

Tension danced over Drac as the coldness that emanated from his king reached out to him, and darkness scraped against darkness. The sibilant slide of his beast whispered through him as he lowered himself into the great chair
facing Gidon.

They were secreted in one of the king’s private war chambers away from eyes and ears embedded in the shadows of the court. It was sparsely furnished with only two great chairs, a throne, and a massive oak desk. The fine layer of dust on the stone floor and furniture showed how little the room had
been used.

“It has been more than fifty years since we last heard rumors of the kingmaker,”
Gidon said.

“Yes.”

“Assassinating my father could have been on
his command.”

“Many do not agree with the ideals your father advocated before his death,” Drac said, scanning the shadows, probing for unusual patterns. Even though they ensconced themselves away, he couldn’t be too careful. “For now, the kingmaker is a rumor…I will unearth the truth of it and the face behind the cowardly murder of
our king.”

“
All
have something to gain from his death, thinking I would be less powerful after ascending,” Gidon growled, thrusting his hand through his midnight hair unraveling it from the thong that
held it.

Savagery slithered through Drac, and a smile curled his lips as he anticipated the fight to come. Gidon shared his father’s ideals, which would mean that he would be the next target. If he fell to an assassin’s blade, there would be no heir to take his place. Their kingdom would then have to choose its next leader based on traits it respected—viciousness, cunning, and ruthlessness. The last time a ruler was chosen like that was before the first Great War, a ruler of whom Gidon was a descendant. Gidon was the last of the Al
Shra bloodline.