Young Writers Society

Chapter Fourteen: The Dead Palace

At this point, it’s too late for Attaraya, Iarin, and I to leave for Dara-Kozca, even if we wanted to. Of course, the rainy sky of Sareil is always dark, but I can tell it’s late simply by my faltering steps and terrible headache.

It’s horrible, just... too horrible. How could this happen? After all that Sae’s been through, this is just too much. After... after enduring torture for three years, returning to her home and family only to find out that all of Sareil thinks her a traitor... it’s unthinkable. And unfair, too, sending a jolt of anger through me. What right does that little brat, Haren or whatever, have to be this cruel to her poor sister? What right does she have to act like the injured party here?

But I guess it’s not entirely Haren’s fault. Sae never reported back to Dara-Kozca, and she wasn’t listed among the dead... the people here could only assume she’d been captured. Sae told me only yesterday that Hanoran interrogation methods were renowned for their cruelty, so what would the Sareilians think? That Sae had somehow... resisted the torture and kept the country’s secrets safe? Of course not. Such a thing could never be expected of a ten-year-old child, could never be expected of an adult, whether it was the truth or not. And as the war started to get worse and worse for the Sareilians, it was easy to think there was a traitor in their midst. So all the blame fell on Sae, though the traitor wasn’t her. It was Kagami.

Everything always leads back to Kagami. Not only is he the true traitor of Sareil, but he started this war that made so many people, like Zenna, or Attaraya, whose best friend is dead, live in misery. He led the child mages to their dreadful fates and planted distrust and hatred between the nations of Terra. He led the Spellweaver Units and, I am sure, was part of whatever it is that caused Koreth’s suffering, because whatever it is was almost certainly connected to the use of his spell. And he was part of the strange vision I saw in Chiren, perhaps even connected with the voice and with the nameless other me. In every story told in this strange world, it seems like Kagami is the villain. And we’re the only ones who know.

Well, we’ve got to do something about it, then. I decide firmly.

But not right now. Now, no matter how I feel, I need to try and sleep.

There’s nowhere to stay in Samei-Kozca, obviously. So we set up a roof made from the shingles of a fallen house, laid against the wall of an alleyway, and find shelter from the rain there. It leaks, it could fall at any moment, and it doesn’t block out the sounds of the rain or the shouts of people running through the streets, but it’s better than just falling asleep in the middle of nowhere, especially considering that not one of us is Sareilian. I pull my hood a little closer around me, lowering my face down so I’m sure no one can see me. With my arms thrown protectively over my face, I fall asleep.

As the dream falls into its last stage, the part with the silhouette and the Other Me, I become aware of someone shaking my shoulder.

“E-emma.” Iarin’s voice echoes in the fragment of silence before the other me decides who I am and goes berserk, “Emma? Come on, w-we’re going.”

I slip out of the dream and open my eyes, stumbling to my feet as I do so. The noise from before has receded, leaving Samei-Kozca shrouded in an eerie sort of quiet. The rain is still there, of course, but the people have left. I’m not really too surprised by this. After all, thanks to Hanora, the city is basically a thieves’ den now, and for some reason I just can’t imagine that thieves would spend much time running around in broad daylight. Well, not daylight, so to speak, since the sun touches Sareil for only a week out of the whole year, but you get the idea… To me, Samei feels like a city of the night.

Maybe the weather’s contributing to our collective moods, but I doubt it. What Haren did has left all of us stunned. Even Attaraya looks somber. Whatever she accuses Sae of deserving, no one can say she deserved that. And after all she’s been through, I don’t want to just abandon her. Will she be safe in Samei, alone, without allies? Haren said that if anyone knew she was alive, they’d be happy to kill her, that Sae’s considered a traitor the whole country over. In fact, we were probably only safe in the Riverside Base because Zenna and her family had been cut off from the world ever since they were captured in Natvise. How will Sae survive?

Or perhaps (my stomach turns at the thought) did she not want to? Perhaps, after so much suffering, she finds being killed a better prospect than living on, hated and exiled? It can’t be. After coming this far, how can anyone wish to die? Then again, I can’t say that myself, I have never suffered as Sae has. She might really have turned herself over to the people of Samei, and after all the believe her guilty of, would they grant her a quick death? I can’t be sure. I feel sick and dizzy, my heart pounds, considering the horrible possibilities. It’s just not right. We’ve got to do something, we’ve got to find her just in case she...

“Wait!”

I almost melt with relief as I hear the familiar high-pitched child’s voice from a little way away. I turn around, and so do Iarin and Attaraya.

Sae is standing there, thankfully unharmed, or, well, not unharmed, but not hurt any worse than she was already. Her pale hair is brushed back away from her scarred face, which is clean of blood and dirt. She wears a grey, slightly moth-eaten sweater, too big for her. The left sleeve is rolled up, the other left loose to hide her hand. Her grey canvas pants are somewhat the worse for wear, ripped and frayed, and her pair of black shoes already soaked through by the rain.

“I thought I might look suspicious,” she says, by way of explanation, “dressed in a prison uniform and all. So I stole some stuff from a store somebody abandoned. Actually, we’d better leave, I’ve been recognized by a couple of people already.”

“Really? You’re okay, though, right?” I ask.

“‘Course. But the last time, I didn’t get away fast enough, got caught up in the middle of a fight. They were pretty strong, though, almost broke my other arm. I had to zap them. Oh, don’t worry,” she adds at Attaraya’s horrified expression. “I didn’t kill anybody. Still, they’ll have called on their friends, so we’d better get out of here. I doubt any of you want to be regarded as the accomplices of the notorious traitor.” she grimaces and sets off for the ruined wall at a brisk pace.

“Wait.” I cut in, “You’re coming with us?”

Sae gives me a look of mild irritation. “Of course. Where else would I go? I can’t exactly stay here. I can’t just wonder around– I’m wanted here for treason, and in Hanora for espionage, resisting interrogation, murder, et cetera. I’m not walking all the way to Sarracor, and I can’t cross the mountains to Ealym, not with only one useful arm. The world is closed to me, now. Samei-Kozca especially. I can’t return home, I can’t go abroad, but I can speak to the Hralhym. I can try to make amends. Her Majesty has been merciful many times before.”

“B-but she has also shown ruthlessness.” Iarin says out of nowhere.

Sae looks at her with great interest, as though seeing her for the first time. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“El... Elli... El... oh, it’s n-not important!” Iarin bursts out suddenly, and busies herself with the clasp of her bag. This is the closest thing Iarin’s ever shown to anger in all the time I’ve known her, making me think it’s probably not a good idea to tell Sae that the name’s Ellith.

Iarin buries her head in her book again and walks ahead of us, and Attaraya, evidentially not wanting to be left behind with the Sareilian, runs to catch up. I fall back next to Sae, again.

“Tell me if you see anyone coming close.” she says, “I really wish now that I hadn’t wasted my spell.“

”Do you... only have a limited amount of spells you can cast per day, or something?” I ask, reminded of something.

Sae give me an odd, suspicious look. “No. Well, sort of. Elemental magic, it takes part of your magic energy each time you use it. Whenever you cast a spell, it’s a little bit weaker than the last time you cast one. But if you rest for a bit, you can get that energy back.”

“Is... is it the same with all types of magic? Like, oh, I don’t know, Spellweaving, for instance?” Wow, real subtle, Emma.

Sae stiffens. She’s silent for a long time. Finally, she says, “All magic requires sacrifice. Iarin, for example, a Healer, grows physically weak after casting a spell. Or, I, casting elemental magic, lose a bit of magical power, easily replenished. Teleportation takes energy from the earth, turning it all into movement, which is why Sarracor, where such magic is common, became a desert after a time. Beast-manipulation– convenient, this one– hurts the manipulated person or creature mentally, it’s a great strain for them, while the caster feels nothing at all. As for Spellweaving... that, also, requires sacrifice. A... different sacrifice.”

“What sort of sacrifice?”

Sae gives me a long and level look. “Forget about it. Just forget. You said yourself that the Spellweaver Koreth did not want you to know.”

Damn me and my detailed explanations of past conversations.

Sae, with a slight shiver– or did I imagine that?– walks away, leaving me with a strange sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

* * * * *

A few days of rainy travel takes us to Dara-Kozca, the royal city of Sareil. I’m alerted to its presence by a different, darker shade of grey against the clouds, highlighted by the sun setting behind them. These, according to the others, are the towering walls of Dara-Kozca, hidden between the rocky hills of northern Sareil. They are tall and grey, built of stone and iron, in a simple large rectangle, nothing like the elaborate white walls of Chiren. As the half-hidden sun glints off the iron ramparts, I’m reminded of the glow of fire, the gathering rainclouds are like smoke. Dara-Kozca looks nothing like a palace for royalty, more like a machine for war.

No fancy pulley-system gates for the Hralhym, I can see as we enter the city, just great iron doors as high as the walls themselves. A sentry waiting at the gate calls down to us in Sareilian, probably inquiring about our business, and Sae answers him. The gates swing open for us and we all file in.

“Is it safe?” I ask, “Just letting us waltz in like that?”

“The H-Hralhym isn’t concerned.” Iarin says, “she r-removed most of Dara-Kozca’s defenses when she came to power, p-preferring to fortify border towns like Samei-Kozca, instead. Back in Seid’s day, h-half the standing army was guarding this place. Th-this Hralhym, though, she’s a formidable enemy.” Somehow, I think I detect a trace of bitterness in Iarin’s voice as she speaks, but finally dismiss it. “No Hanoran has dared go this far into Sareil since the start of her reign. She kept them entirely out of Sareil for ten years. A-and even then... the Fourth Raid... despite all the damages to Samei, in the end it was still somewhat of a S-Sareilian victory. The Hanorans broke ranks and retreated only hours after the Hralhym rode into the city. H-her army... from the officers right down to the rank and file... they’re the most l-loyal on the continent.”

“What’s so special about this... Hralhym, or whatever her name is?”

“Hralhym’s not her name, it’s her title. Her name’s M-m-meaya Kerísemi.” I notice, suddenly, that Iarin’s hands have developed a tendency to flutter, and she clears her throat loudly before continuing, “And after having b-been beaten so completely by Hanora, Meaya represents real hope. In the days before she came to the throne, S-sareil was bout to surrender. B-but it’s more than that. She’s also...”

“Shush.” Sae whispers, “We’re going into the palace now.”

The city of Dara-Kozca seems to be made up of only the barracks and the castle, though “castle” isn’t quite the word I’d use. More like “giant brick box.” It’s by far the ugliest castle I have ever seen. No turrets, no statues, anything fancy. Which I’d expect, I guess, from a country on the verge of its fall. Another guard opens the castle’s great iron doors to a high-ceilinged entrance hall, huge, cold, and free of adornment. Hralhym Meaya is clearly not a big fan of frivolities.

At the end of the hall stands a tall, wooden throne, elaborately carved and the only remotely royal thing about the Sareilian royal city. Above the throne hangs a rather sorry looking blue flag, pale blue with a darker blue stripe in the center, scattered with generic raindrop shapes. This Hralhym, or whatever she’s called, is nowhere to be seen.

“Well? Where is she?” I ask, my voice echoing uncomfortably in the empty halls.

“Someone there?” a voice comes from a passage leading out of the hall, quiet but still authoritative, commanding an answer, and a quick one.

With her good arm, Sae seizes Attaraya by the scruff of her neck and pulls her into an awkward bow, inclining her own head as well. I copy her as best as I can. Iarin drops into a graceful bow of her own, though on closer inspection, I see that her clasped hands are trembling.

Hralhym Meaya steps into the hall, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor. She’s dressed in simple clothing, a brown tunic and a brown skirt, belted at her waist with a length of white ribbon. Her only adornment is a wooden staff, taller than her, that she carries loosely in her right hand. Back straight, head raised, she surveys us with an expression of calm curiosity. But there is something different about her. She’s just as pale and ghostlike as all the other Sareilians I’ve met so far, but her cropped hair is a dark, warm brown, and one of her eyes is pale green.

She says a word in Sareilian, brief and without emotion. I’m guessing that it’s “Rise” or some variant thereof, because Sae straightens up, releases Attaraya, and motions for me to do the same. Iarin edges a bit closer to Attaraya and I, in order to translate.

The Hralhym stares at Sae for a moment.

“Who are you?” she asks at last.

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*hides* Don't kill me, NewWriter! XD

Yes, I know it's late, no, I don't have any particular excuse. I just kept telling myself, "Oh, I'll post it tomorrow" and well... XD Time's getting away from me.

I don't have any problems with this chapter, but I don't exactly love it either. It's just... an "eh." chapter for me. Okay. Nothing special. Nothing awful. The next three chapters or so are kinda the same way. It's not like nothing happens-- actually, 16 contains one of the biggest turns in the plot for the whole book. It's just that their quality is kinda mediocre. Ah, well. That's what editing is for.

And yes, I know this chapter ending is a bit lackluster. Actually, I couldn't figure out where to cut it off. XD Advice?