Of Fire and Fury (Book 1: Light-Born Series)

Chapter 37 - Khaya

The throne room was built entirely of thick, square stones and nearly barren. The only break in the grey of the walls and floor was a black rug, with vines of gold marking the outer edges. It ran three men wide from the door to the edge of thick stone steps at back of the room. The room was cool and almost dreary, not ornate like the kings’ halls you would see in the lands of Tarish or warm and inviting like the great forts of the Beringers. There were no fires lining the walls for light. Instead, the hall was lit by an opening in the ceiling, a large circle that had been cut through every story of the castle above it and opened to the sky. It was wider across than any man was tall, and left a circle of golden light on the floor and the throne directly beneath it.

Despite the apparent blankness of the room, the throne that sat at the top of the stairs was a piece of art. It was a living tree, growing from a square patch of earth only a few paces on each side. The thick trunk was made up of several thinner branches, as if it were a hundred trees all growing together as one. A few hands from the base, the thin branches split and curved: half fanned out to create a seat, the others wound themselves intricately within each other to form a back rest. On the other side of this woven chair, the branches returned to their singular shape and branched toward the light above it, fanning out into pale green leaves.

Queen Khaya sat on this throne, fidgeting uncomfortably while she endured the torture of her ruling duties. Hundreds of tribesmen trailed through this hall, reporting grievances, asking for loan extensions or extra rations—this was the worst part of her job even under normal circumstances. More than his presence, she missed her husband’s help in these proceedings. He had always taken most of the boring and troubling work of ruling from her, leaving her to care for their daughter and organize parties and feasts. After his death, she had been the sole bearer of bringing the kingdom back from the brink of collapse. These proceedings were just a trivial part of what she had done.

Now, more than ever, her discomfort was hardly bearable. As of late, whenever Khaya found herself bored, her mind wandered back to the cold shock against her hands and knees, and the vision that made her ever more aware of her own mortality. Now, every tribesman that stepped in front of her could be an enemy. Every guard in her own hall she had to watch. It was exhausting to worry about people who she had once regarded as family. The hidden knife strapped to her back under her dress poked her skin as she fidgeted, reminding her of its presence.

As she sat, listening to yet another complaint from the Amarin about their lack of resources when it came to preserving their scrolls, Khaya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She rubbed her temples briefly, trying to appear thoughtful rather than irritated. But as she sat with closed eyes, the hall fell eerily and completely silent. The Amarin ceased talking altogether. Khaya opened her eyes and looked around.

One moment, the hall had been filled with a long line of her subjects, and along either side of the black carpet was a line of her guards. The people had completely vanished, and in their place was a young woman. Khaya blinked, staring at the girl who stood alone and motionless before her. She was fair, with a round face and inquisitive, almond shaped eyes. A bow slung across her back and a knife was in her belt. Her thick hair was braided back from her face, revealing a stripe of Omari war paint across her eyes. But she did not wear the Omari red: instead, this paint was the sky blue of the Napua.

It took Khaya several long moments to realize the familiar feeling in her gut that told her this was not reality. Khaya stood and moved toward the mirage, her white dress flowing around her legs and out behind her as she stepped down the three steps to the edge of the long rug. She glanced over the frozen image in the hopes that it would reveal its reason for appearing. Pressing her fingers to what should have been the skin on the girl’s arm, the image receded away from her touch like ripples of water. Khaya returned to her seat and stared for a moment more at the strange, fierce girl whose image appeared to her. 

“What am I to learn, here?” she wondered aloud, sighing heavily. A prickling sensation ran down her spine in response, as a name came to her mind.

“Rabid.” She said. When she spoke the name, the vision of the girl came alive. The girl gasped, breathing deep as though she had been trapped underwater. Her dark eyes lit with fire as they darted around the room. Finally, her gaze fell to Khaya. Her eyes widened as she took in everything before her.

“Queen Khaya?” the girl asked, her chest still heaving with breath. Khaya squinted slightly, examining her. She realized that the girl looked familiar, somehow, but she had no true memories of her.

“Who are you?” Khaya challenged. “Why have you appeared to me?”

“I didn’t come to you… am I in the great hall? Oh, this must be a memory.” Rabid said to herself, glancing around again. Then she nodded quickly as if she had come to the explanation. She sighed, seeming to relax.

Khaya stood again, stepping forward and swinging her arm through the mirage. There was still no solid body, her arm floated through Rabid’s abdomen without obstruction. But then, it hit something solid. Khaya grabbed it, pulling it from the mirage of clothing that had hidden it. She held the small golden orb in her hands, lokoing at the oddly familiar shape. Then, she saw the Angeni writing scratched into the metal, and a shock ran through her as she realized where she had seen it: deep in the library of Amarinhom, on the Midrash’s desk.

“No!” Khaya gasped, dropping the object to the ground. She took several steps back, watching the glint of gold reflected onto the grey stones. This was the device she had seen drawn, but it looked broken. There was no hilt, no gemstones, only the rounded gold bands and the sharp daggers point. Rabid’s mouth fell open, staring at the device.

“I… have so many questions.” Rabid said, examining Khaya. “How did you just grab that? And aren’t you supposed to be telling me something here?”

“I’m not a memory.” Khaya snapped, her eyes still locked on device.“How did you come by this?”

Rabid blinked in confusion, so Khaya sighed and said,

“You are Napua, but you have the power of the Amarin. How?” 

“I… uh…” Rabid paused, quiting slightly as she looked at Khaya, deciding what to tell her.

“I’m… like you.” she finally said. Khaya took a sharp inhale, studying Rabid. She walked around her quickly, looking over her dirty skins and messy braid, before coming to stand in front of her. Khaya saw now why the girl looked so familiar. It was her eyes, hidden underneath a s***h of blue paint: they were Frea’s eyes. The same almond shape and deep brown, the same fire, the same curiosity. Khaya’s breath caught.

“Why did you think I was a memory?” Khaya asked suddenly, needing to hear the truth from Rabid’s own mouth.

“You have been dead for a long time.” Rabid said, regretfully. “I have a lot of memories of you.”

“You are my natuna? My daughter’s offspring?” Khaya asked, feeling lightheaded. Rabid nodded slowly.

“How are we communicating like this? I’ve never had a memory this strange.” Rabid asked, taking a step forward.

“You’re new at this, aren’t you?” Khaya asked.

Rabid nodded, still looking bewildered.

“If I can see you, it isn’t a memory, we’re both experiencing this. It’s more like a shared vision.” Khaya said.

“How are we doing this? This… shared vision.” she asked.

“I don’t really know, I’ve never done this before.” Khaya shrugged. “But then, I have never known anyone else with more than one of the powers.” 

Rabid looked down at her own hands, then around her at the stone walls of the great hall.

“Is this… normal?” Rabid asked. Khaya chuckled slightly.

“I’ve never seen something of this magnitude, but I stopped being surprised by the Great Spirit’s abilities long ago.”

Rabid nodded to herself, looking around once more, as if trying to come to terms with the implications.

“Now tell me, how did you come by this?” Khaya said, motioning to the golden object still on the ground. Rabid frowned, picking the half sphere up and replacing it in her inner pocket.

“I found it, in… some ruins.” she said carefully, eyeing Khaya warily.

“You should destroy it.” Khaya said, matter-of-factly.

“What is this, that I hold?” Rabid asked, her hands twitched, like she was fighting to pull it out again and examine it. Khaya sighed heavily, shaking her head.

“It is darkness.” she replied. “That writing along the side, it is of the Angeni.”

“The Angeni?” Rabid asked, her eyes widening.

“The dark spirits.” Khaya said quietly, nodding her head furiously. “You should not be playing with such things.”

“I know what they are. Trust me.” Rabid squinted her eyes, thinking for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?” Khaya questioned.

“When I first touched it, I felt something. A power going out of it. It didn’t feel evil, it felt …safe. It increased my own powers.” Rabid said.

Khaya stared at her for a long moment, thinking. Finally, she said,

“Be careful with it.” 

“Please, tell me. What does it do?” Rabid asked.

“It harbors dark magic.” Khaya said.

“But wh…” Rabid started, but then her mirage began to shimmer and shake, flickering like a candle that had been blown on just light enough to not go out.

“Something’s happening. I have to go.” Rabid said, glancing around as if she was seeing something outside of the Khaya’s hall.

“Wait, I need to know what happens to me.” Khaya said, firmly. “Just tell me if I live through this. If I get to see my daughter grow up.”

Rabid stared at Khaya for a moment. She opened her mouth, but then closed it tightly.

“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.” she said, looking down at the ground.

“Of course you can’t. That would change things, or make things worse.” Khaya nodded, sighing heavily.

“But if you figure out what this thing does,” Rabid tapped the side of her temple and smiled. “Lock it away up here, so I can remember it.”

In an instant, Rabid’s image had vanished and Khaya was back sitting on her throne. She blinked quickly, unnerved by the sudden change of scene. She was back in her present, soldiers lining the walls and an Amarin scribe was still rambling on about water damage and dust mites. The man stopped with wide eyes as Khaya lurched forward, quickly coming to her feet.

“My queen?” the man said, blinking in confusion.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. Something has just come to my attention and I must take my leave. Speak with the accountant, and he will give you what you need to preserve the books more thoroughly.” Khaya said, nodding curtly. 

“Thank you my lady.” the Amarin smiled, bowing low to the ground. Khaya was already descending the stairs and heading out of the great hall as she headed toward the library. She needed to speak to the Midrash, right away.