Knee-Deep in Cinders

Chapter 1.

Vilas tossed his book onto a polished table at the sound of footfalls beyond his gilded cage – odd, since feeding time was not for at least an hour. Another Radiant come to prod at me?

He rose with a frown, starting for the chamber door. On his way, he ducked between the wilder of his hanging plants to pause within a golden glow. Cast by the admittedly generous skylight above, it still didn’t change the fact that he was a prisoner. A sweet scent lingered as he glared at the entryway and its door.

At the pile of splinters and ash it could have been.

Should have been.

After all, it was just a pathetically normal door. Oak, with a single steel bolt. One blow ought to have shattered the thing, sent smouldering wreckage into the corridor beyond. Yet he had not managed even a single scratch in years.

He tapped two fingers upon the silver collar at his neck as he lifted his voice. I am not interested in whatever you have to say, whoever you are.

Fracture-thin lines of yellow gleamed within the wood-grain as the magic seal lifted. The door swung open to reveal a pair of Radiants in their white vests and cloaks, hands dripping with silver rings.

Neither spoke, merely watched him.

Yes? At least their clothing bore no tint of azure. Never a good start to the visit. Vilas folded his arms. I am still sealed away, as you are aware. Have you really come to interrupt my reading by simply standing in silence?

Still no response.

Usually, unexpected visits came with Radiant Healers and their sticky minds... Or at least, the same old questions about the war and his own abilities. Sometimes, those questions were followed by petty lords and ladies desperate to catch a glimpse of ‘Vilas, the Beast of Khiya’.

And each time, the collar disappointed them.

Only good thing about it.

But today, his visitor was no idle nobleman trying to impress a lover, or a gaggle of youths fulfilling a dare.

No.

Today was suddenly a little brighter.

Queen Ima herself strode into his prison, preceded by two more Radiants, each man bearing tattoos of torches on their cheeks, a symbol of additional power, something common among the Luminaries themselves. Excessive.

She didn’t need either pair of guards.

The Onathian Queen wore her dark hair shorter than other ladies of the court, painted shadows shaped as pears around her eyes – a trend which had, apparently, caught on in the rest of the palace and city itself.

Quite a change from the Onath of old.

Even her eyelids had been shaded in a soft red.

And when she smiled at him, it was the smile that quickened his pulse, that tormented his dreams.

But he did not welcome her.

She approached, near enough to touch. Perfume of vanilla and orange blossom almost drew him closer still, but he did not lean in. Her crimson gown hugged her hips and breasts, the lace at its edges patterned as flowers, though in contrast, the black gloves on her bare arms were not made to flatter... but to protect.

Deadly, indeed.

Something that only made her all the more alluring. Just how much would it hurt if her hands touched me? Despite his reading, even after years of research, the source of her strange power was a mystery... useful though it could prove to be.

Vilas. She glanced around his chambers; chair, table, bed half-visible in the adjoining room. You still seem comfortable enough, despite claims in your recent... correspondence.

Highly unlikely that any of his churlish letters about minor inconveniences and otherwise had prompted her visit. Your Majesty.

Queen Ima sat on his chair and sifted through the books he had collected. Just what was her game? She was not interested in his reading material. After all, her puppets approved – or rejected – everything he requested. Ima knew exactly what he was reading. She wanted something.

I’m studying the Western Rebellion, he said. Among other things in that language. I don’t believe I have time to read to you.

She opened one of the books and closed it after a moment. I can read the Western language, as you are aware, handsome.

Yet I cannot fathom this visit, Your Majesty.

She crossed her legs and leant back, hints of her calf visible, drawing his eye though he ought not to have let himself be distracted. Have you heard of the Cherished Sons?

If you mean that insipid cult from the Wastelands, then a little. Why?

I do mean them, yes.

Frankly, they do not seem worth your attention.

Yet, I would hear more of your opinion.

He shrugged. I’m surprised they’ve persisted so long. I heard them speaking once, Your Majesty. If he had opened his mouth and mulch poured forth, it would have been more coherent. What possible concern could they be for the Queen of Onath?

The Cherished Sons have changed, and I believe, are not to be underestimated.

Oh?

She leant forward and her perfume became more distinct – definitely vanilla and orange blossoms – but her eyes were more compelling, dark and glittering with determination. No longer are they so few. Their numbers have grown, and lately, swiftly. They are drawing the young and bitter from outlying villages, and even the city itself now. We intercepted two weapon-shipments in the spring alone. They have funds and they are preparing.

For what? It was a noteworthy change from the cult’s past activities of lonely sermons and graffiti in the city, or rituals in the Wastelands but certainly nothing that couldn’t be countered quite easily by the Radiants. Or Gosdan and the army. After all, Onath boasted one of the largest forces in all the nations. The return of their Twin Prophets, was it?

She replaced his book with a sigh. I’ve no doubt that’s exactly what is being sold to the vulnerable and the foolish. But whoever is behind this development has a very real target – Otakom Dam.

That would be more troubling, he replied, but after a moment, spread his hands. Nevertheless, it must be far worse than what you’ve mentioned so far, if you’ve been given permission to seek out one such as I.

Ima raised an eyebrow, though she still smiled. Permission? Don’t bother trying to insult me, Vilas. Just listen. I need the Beast of Khiya.

Why? And what are you offering? Freedom? He gestured to the collar, and it was impossible to keep a sudden anger from his voice. Because I haven’t given up on my oath. I will destroy this city if you free me. It is the very least I can do.

She narrowed her eyes. Even the innocents?

He slammed a fist onto the table. "Don’t even think about lecturing me, Your Majesty."

A chill shot through his collar as it constricted. Air vanished. Edges dug deep into his skin and Vilas collapsed to the carpet, clawing at his throat.

The room grew dim.

Enough. The queen’s voice rang out.

Vilas sucked in air from where he lay upon the carpet. Slowly, his vision cleared as the collar loosened, growing warmer as it did.

Queen Ima knelt on one knee beside his head – pinning his hair. Vilas heard a gasp from one of the Radiants but she waved off the man’s protest. This isn’t the time for propriety, Hosun.

But... Your Majesty, the Royal Person need never stoop, even for so much as a gold stalk, let alone this murderous beast. We do not need him. We should send another infiltrator instead. His eyes were wide. You must let –

I must? Her voice no longer held any trace of patience.

The Radiant placed both hands behind his back and receded. Forgive me.

Ima did not respond. Instead, she pointed a gloved finger at Vilas. "You can paint me with my grandfather’s mistakes from decades long gone all you wish, but I will have an answer. Once more, I need the Beast of Khiya and you want freedom. Help me wipe out the Cherished Sons."

The black velvet of the glove was close. All she had to do was remove it and brush against him and the pain... He sighed up at the queen. And again, I ask. Why me?

For all the reasons I have given.

He frowned. And?

And because we found traces of Brutes. Or at least, a Brute. She lifted her knee. And so it must be you, Vilas.

He met her unflinching gaze.

Brutes. Called giant, ogre or sometimes simply monsters. Not a single name was inaccurate precisely, but the Wahkyog were more intelligent, more human than such descriptions suggested. Fled, vanished, vanquished, extinct... supposedly. None knew the truth, but it had been many years since they were last seen.

Even by my standards.

The Brutes were no friend of his own ancestors either, but why had they returned now? To Onath? Assuming any of the queen’s claims were true. Above all, why would the Wahkyog work with a bottom-feeding cult? It is not their way either.

Whatever the truth, it was an enormous request. I might be able to stop them – without my bonds, of course.

Name your price.

Chapter 2.

The queen stepped aside.

Vilas pushed his hair back as he rose. He returned to the table and settled into his chair with a sigh. Ima watched him without comment, and he did not answer at first. But it was not a ploy. No such pantomime was necessary – the answer he would give was obvious to all. The Brutes were worthy of more consideration, considering their size, strength, and the enormous barrier of communication between them. How to negotiate with a cold mountain, after all?

Was the Beast of Khiya an actual match for the Wahkyog?

For even one?

Vilas rubbed the stubble on his cheek. The freedom he would demand, would it end up being nothing more than the freedom to die at the hands of an old enemy? Leaving vengeance against the city unfulfilled? What a Godsforsaken waste that would be.

Above all, Queen Ima had little incentive to keep her word, given his promise to destroy Onath and its sparkling streets.

Ima folded her arms. Is it such a difficult decision?

Not at all. He rose to stand before her. I do, of course, demand my freedom for this service.

Once you have dealt with the Brutes, she answered with a nod.

And you, he said.

She paused. And what?

I will save this cursed city from the Wahkyog if I can share your bed, Your Majesty.

Cries of outrage burst from the Radiants, and one younger man trembled where he stood, nostrils widening.

Ima raised a hand, a slight smile upon her lips. So small a price, Vilas?

I would not underestimate you that way.

She removed one glove and reached out to touch his cheek, the barest grazing, and a thrill cascaded across his skin, like standing ever-so close to a bolt of lightning. If you succeed – and survive – we have a deal.

Radiant Hosun stepped forward, his fellows right behind the man. I must object, My Queen!

You think a single night is too much to give to save my people, Radiant? She replaced her glove. "Please grow up. This is life and death for tens of thousands of people. More."

The man flushed but did not step down, even waving his ringed hands. "But there is no guarantee. How do we know that he will keep his word? That he’ll even be able to succeed, Your Majesty? And even if he does, all know about his sworn vengeance."

We’re here because there is no-one else. It is that simple. She turned back to Vilas. There are further conditions on your freedom.

Minders.

She nodded. Hosun here is sending along his strongest; a young man named Tano, as part of a group that includes soldiers and a Steel Maiden. The party will be led by Gosdan Machical, whose orders you will follow. You are leaving for the walls immediately. Do you still accept?

I do. He managed not to grind the words out. The possible return of the Brutes was one thing, but Machical? That filth? The mutt who cut the silken ropes of Khiya – and worse. This will be... difficult. Knowing the general was still alive but never seeing him was not at all the same as knowing the man lived and having to meet face-to-face.

Young Tano will be along with your escort soon. Queen Ima smiled from the doorway, then left the room, a pair of servants trailing.

The remaining Radiants too, moved to follow their queen but before the door was sealed again, Hosun stopped in the arch. I will kill you myself, should you lay a finger upon her.

Vilas shrugged. Threatening me makes me wonder if I should leave this room at all.

Ha. You want your freedom.

In its place, I do enjoy time to read. Lovely meals, even for Onathian-fare, a comfortable bed – beautiful flowers too. Time to sit and plot and plan.

Hosun sneered. She’s not going to sleep with you. Surely you know that. She’s betting on you defeating the Brutes and dying in the process. That, or she’ll simply keep you trapped, once you’ve served your purpose.

Only time will tell, Vilas said with a grin.

But once Hosun had spun on his heel to storm out, slamming and then Binding the door behind him, Vilas grunted. The weasel might not have been too far wrong. Sharing Ima’s bed was one thing, but she would not simply let him destroy Onath.

Even so, she is the key.

And his vengeance would not be abandoned.

Life had suddenly become interesting. Or at the very least, no longer a mind-numbing routine of sameness with slight variations from week to week. He chuckled at the surge of vitality that followed. Is this fresh hope, then? Fascinating. Something that had been missing for the last... how many years?

Vilas stacked his books into a neat pile, taking care with the one detailing the unfathomable power of Ima’s lineage, then strode to the bedroom. There, he opened the ornate dresser and withdrew his Maelohas tunic from amongst the Onath blues and whites. Black, save for the striped silver thread on the sleeves, it still bore traces of old blood.

And a hole from Machical’s blade.

An echo of pain ran through Vilas’ side but he ignored it, instead lifting the sleeve to examine the silver. Faded but not wholly dulled, the patterns still appeared as a pair of linked hands.

For the first... dozen years of captivity, he’d worn the tunic each day.

Petty defiance, nothing more. Yet in time, the very sight of the fabric had him avoiding mirrors and eventually, the black was hidden away. In the many years that followed, it remained therein.

But the soft hemp could be worn again, even if doing so would drag a stinging bitterness back into the light.

No other piece of clothing like it in the world now.

Vilas removed his plain robe, running a hand across the still-raised scar on the skin at his side, a scar which would line up precisely with the hole in his tunic. But he placed the last shred of his people, of Maelohas, on with a sigh. Strange to come home now... even in this tiny way.

Next, the chest at the bottom.

Hinges on the lid squeaked as he lifted the top.

Inside, two items only. A thin blade of steel that bore faint blue for its handle, and a feathered quill. The quill sat empty of ink, save for the old stains. Its feather was a dark grey, with a golden triangle pattern, which in turn bore smaller, pale triangles within.

On the lyrebird, it made for quite a magnificent display.

Yet another thing long-since gone now, I imagine. Vilas lifted the quill free but did not take it. That life is gone.

Instead, he took the knife.

Next, he strode to the opposite wall, kneeling on his half-made bed – two paintings, each of Maelohas. Of a Maelohas that no longer existed. The city of Khiya, stones aglow at sunset and the sweet Sighing Forest, as seen from the mountain peaks.

All gone now; destroyed by King Hevolma’s greed.

Over the years, a few Radiants had remarked upon the