Kingdoms on Fire

3. Belik

3

Belik

Belik drew his mouth into a tight line as he watched the limp body of Firian being carried away, bound. All that strength, all that potential, tied up in another girl. He saw his own mind in those bonds. Chetana held a string he could never shear away, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he hated it. Hate was easier than fear, more powerful, so he had chosen that a long time ago. He would kill her if he ever got the chance. The one who had seduced him, betrayed him…

Belik’s lip curled. They were so close—literally moments away—from making their dream a reality and Firian had to screw it up out of a misplaced sense of… what? Honor? Lust? Whatever it was, Belik wouldn’t beg. His road had been much longer than Firian’s, though he had grown fond of the boy. Maybe Firian would realize his stupidity.

“What the gory hell was that?” Master Ardal demanded from behind him. “He’s the Tanyuin Head. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill us.”

Belik tore his eyes from Firian, whose hair flopped over his face, mouth lolling open as he disappeared past the light of the everlasting round lanterns.

“I didn’t see you stepping in,” he responded coolly. Master Ardal had never impressed him. He taught World Events at the Academy, but he was rusty in action.

“I know not to put a target on my back.”

“As you’re doing now?” Belik raised one eyebrow meaningfully.

Despite a flash of apprehension, so quick it might never have been there at all, Ardal didn’t back down. He’d argued with Belik before, although most Masters knew better than to try. “What did he do? If this is a coup, it’s messy. Master Kess has many people on his side.”

Messy? Maybe. Belik shrugged his massive shoulders, setting his expression into a glare.

Shiro stepped in to answer. Belik had told enough Tanyu to accomplish the initial mission. Word just needed to spread. “He only ordered the Keepers killed so he could rule with Kiria. That’s why he disappeared. He helped her escape.” The younger Tanyu’s eyes flashed with hatred. He felt Firian’s betrayal more than most, since Firian had accidentally killed his friend Rian when Kingdom soldiers raided the Academy.

“He wants to distance himself from the strike now,” Belik added. “It’s all right, Ardal. He lied to all of us. Turns out he had a katah with her.” He felt his own anger rise with the word. This part was truth, and it made him seethe. “Firian was going to leave us all to rot. No justice for what the Kingdom did. You knew the victims of the attack on the Academy. I did too! So I’ll get revenge with or without him.” There was no one who could refute his story, but he’d have to remember the details so he could repeat them. His lie might as well be truth. “How else could she have known we were coming? Coward,” he spat. “She left them all to die.”

“She wants to be with Master Kess?” someone else asked. They were like children, all lapping up gossip. Firian had had plenty of girls. Why were they surprised about one more? Kiria was a child, no more than eighteen. Of course she’d want to be part of the grand play Firian promised with his power and his name.

Belik tried to prepare for the unpredictable, but was often disappointed when people acted exactly as he expected. No one was original anymore. Firian could have been. He could have gone somewhere…

“She won’t show us mercy after this, if Firian gets his way.” Belik grunted. “Hopefully he’ll come around.”

“He could have killed us all just now,” Ardal insisted again.

“He could do that before.” Before the killing ability made it easier. “I’ll put it right.” And hopefully Firian will start thinking with his head and not his d**k.

Belik was tired of talking. There was work to be done. Right now, the generals in the barracks were no doubt arguing among themselves about the best course of action. That, or following attack protocol. Belik had stationed many Tanyu there to settle things before he arrived.

Belik turned to Shiro. White light from the round lanterns warred with the waning firelight, dominating opposite sides of the Defender’s face. The sky had turned gray with the morning, but none of that light bled in. Belik was already sick of this soft place with all its religion and reminders of her.

“Advisors,” he grunted. Shiro and another Tanyu ran to gather them.

He loped after them slowly, rounding the corner away from where they’d taken Firian. The weakness in his leg had gotten worse since he used his new ability on Bard. Someone appeared around the corner. His stomach jolted with nerves.

Just a Tanyu. He cursed himself. Death didn’t frighten him—his plan would work, he was reasonably sure—but his body reacted with anxiety now that he was so close to his son. Seething anger layered under his skin, at himself, at her… He hadn’t seen his son since he was a baby, and since he was three-quarters Khelê, he didn’t have to bear any resemblance to either of his parents.

Shiro and his companion returned with three Amir in tow. They stood with regal dignity, as though standing before Belik were beneath them. Belik fought the urge to spit on one of the gory prisses’ boots. They all wore the same grayish blue robes, but the one on the left was the oldest, with dark, thinning hair slicked back. In the center was a younger one who looked like a stereotypical Kingdom man, deep-set eyes, fair skin and dark hair. On the right was another man who might be the same age as the one in the center. It was difficult to tell. He was clearly Khelê, having very large eyes and a small mouth. His irises might have been tinged with purple.

Belik scrutinized the ones on the center and the right. The man on the left was too old. Surrounded by the buzz of the other Tanyu, it was difficult to tell if any of these men had the Talent. Any son of his had to have it. “The Keepers are dead,” he said. It would be true of all three soon enough, and the more people he told, the more plausible it sounded.

All three let out cries of horror.

Belik studied them impassively before continuing. “I need one of you to announce this to the people, and to inform them that the Tanyu will take ownership of the city at the next new moon.”

“What proof do we have?” the oldest demanded hesitantly.

Belik stifled a smirk. “We’ll show you later. Which of you will give the announcement?” Fractionally, he paused. “What are your names?” In the silence that followed, his heart started jogging in his chest. This was it. If he was right—and he was rarely wrong—this would be the moment he would meet his son.

“I am Parohim,” said the eldest, “and this is Daelon and Reynard.”

Daelon. Belik locked eyes with the one in the center, taking in the high-necked collar, the scholar’s hands, the lined eyes, the youthful mouth, the straight nose. Daelon’s skin wasn’t dark like his mother’s or pockmarked like his. A hint of defiance was the only sign Belik could detect of his parents’ deadly personalities. His breath caught in his throat as Daelon looked him in the eye. His eyes had the tired look of someone who read too much but hadn’t yet gotten glasses. He would need them in time. He was Belik’s son, after all. A royal advisor. An Amir.

No scars at all.

He swallowed down the trapped air. Chetana had ruined their son. Daelon was a man of words, not action. He couldn’t defend his home against the Tanyu. He couldn’t even help his princess, or Keeper, as she was now. His only son, and she had twisted him with her own priorities, told him that the Tanyu were bloodthirsty and cruel, while the Amir were soft and merciful. His face grew warm with blood. His son. His only son.

He shifted his weight, his badly broken leg throbbing as though the fight with her had been yesterday. Daelon was the prize he had lost. By then, he’d already lost Chetana.

“Which of you will give the announcement?” he asked again, willing for Daelon to speak.

All three remained stonily silent.

About to call on Daelon, he stopped himself. He had to make an example of anyone who refused. “You,” he said to Reynard.

“I will not,” the Amir replied calmly. “I will not sanction a cruel leader while my Keepers might still live. God would not have it so.”

Belik ground his molars. He should have expected this pigheadedness. “You will, or we’ll kill you.”

Constriction in his neck tendons revealed the Amir was nervous. “I can’t betray my Keeper, my kingdom, or my God.”

Before Belik could respond, Daelon spoke. “God supports the just man’s cause and dawns upon him light in darkness.” In his eyes burned a fire, admittedly small, that made Belik almost proud. It had to be about the Sacred Scroll, though. Everything did with these people.

Belik turned back to Reynard. “You won’t do it?”

The Amir’s huge eyes widened almost comically. “No.”

Chewing his cheek, Belik gave one nod to the Tanyu behind Reynard, who went down in seconds, his neck cracking loudly through the night air.

Daelon and Parohim recoiled in horror, shuffling away from the body and uttering guttural sounds of dismay. But they didn’t fight back. Did they have any nerve, any mettle at all? Who could watch one of their own go down and not attack the one who did it?

His gaze brushed past his son again, standing tall but too docile beside Reynard’s body. Had Chetana ever told him who his father was? About to call on Parohim, he stopped. His curiosity burned him from the inside out.

“You,” he said.

Daelon stiffened.

Belik’s heart hammered. To be announced by his own son would taste more like victory than any other part of this so far. Someone had to recognize the greatness of the Tanyu. If not Firian, then his biological son.

“My name is Master Belik, a Tanyu of the Academy,” he said, staring into his son’s eyes.

Something in Daelon’s expression went slack with recognition and dread, but he didn’t say anything.

“I need you to announce that the Keepers are dead, and that the Tanyu have taken the city. It will be made official at the next new moon.”

The recognition in Daelon’s eyes gave way to pain. His mouth strained as though pulled by misery. Belik could see his shallow breathing. All the little adjustments resulted in a horrified grief.

Was he this sad about the Keepers? Belik considered for a moment if he could allow that as a legitimate reason to be so upset.

“No,” Daelon managed. His brow lowered and he glared up at his father with a clear message: How could you? My own father! So he didn’t want to admit the relationship. Fine.

Belik felt pressure building in his blood. His gaze ticked to the Tanyu standing behind his son. He didn’t nod.

“The Tanyu have taken the city,” Belik repeated. “You can support what’s inevitable—” Or you can die. But the words stuck in his throat.

“I will not sanction you,” Daelon said again, more clearly this time.

“Do you have another quote for me?” Belik barely hid the derision in his voice.

He might have imagined it, but it looked like Daelon leaned forward. “God uproots the tyrant.”

The Tanyu behind him started forward. Holding up a hand, Belik was barely quick enough to stop from breaking his neck as he had broken Reynard’s. Belik’s mouth had gone dry. Anger swam in his thoughts, but he couldn’t have his own son killed. It shouldn’t have mattered so much, not when there was so much at stake, but he’d found an unexpected weakness in himself. Later, he would redress the issue, but for now, he couldn’t do it.

Flicking a look at Shiro, he said, “Daelon will send food down to Firian. Show him where he is.”

It was a dangerous job, but it accomplished Belik’s purposes: throwing Firian an obvious lifeline, and keeping his son alive. If Firian threatened Daelon or injured him in his reckless anger, at least Belik wouldn’t have to watch.

Two weaknesses.

Fatigue lapped against him. After a few more hours, Belik could rest and start the hard work of prying them off his mind.