Vaid Empire: Conquest
Chapter 132
37th of Senin, 22 AVE.
Kingdom of Waith, Near Nenian.
The morning light spilled through the branches of the towering trees, fighting the darkness lingering beneath the jungle’s organic canopy. The cacophony of wildlife chirping and clicking in every direction gradually grew silent, for the jungle knew what was to come.
Kunir marched among his companions at The God Emperor’s side. Their holy ruler led the imperial legion through the trees, trampling all in their path as they stormed towards the inevitable. When The City of Nenian came into view ahead, the vast horde of humans and Arkos slowed to a stop.
The Lanthian city loomed high above the jungle floor as its countless wooden walkways and buildings dominated the upper branches of the gargantuan trees in their path. The first hint of civilization they had encountered since re-entering the jungle glowed with countless orange bioluminescent lights littered throughout the city. Soon, such lights would be replaced with flames.
Every man and woman around and behind Kunir readied their blades, for Nenian was far from helpless. With his grip tightening upon his hilt, he beheld the vast swarm of Lanthian warriors infesting the branches and air ahead.
His heart quickened as it did before every battle. He heard the shout of The God Emperor. With a single word, their ruler sent thousands of blades against their enemies, and the battle began.
Their advance was measured and disciplined. Shields were raised against the volley of projectiles that came hurling down from the branches above. Swords and spears stood ready.
Generations of Arkos experience in fighting against the Lanthians mixed with the years of experience the commanders of the legion had received while conquering Lian. Men and women marched behind moving walls of shields as selected rows of warriors had been trained to protect those at their backs.
Kunir marveled at the sight of their Arkos allies in battle. Eager to kill their ancient enemies, they knew how best to fight their winged foes. Rows of archers stood protected behind shields while others were scattered among the trees, taking cover and striking back furiously. Many others had ascended to the upper branches at the command of The God Emperor during their march, utilizing the metal claws of their traditional gauntlets to stab into the wood and easily climbing to match the height of the Lanthian swarm, meeting them at their level.
Wood was a rare thing in the desert of their homeland, and thus their bows were forged from young charom stems. Rather than arrows, thin shards that had been carefully carved from older and hardened charom stems launched swiftly from their bows. They didn’t strike to kill. Speed was their ally rather than precision, for their shards flew through the air to meet the flapping wings of their enemies. A single shard tearing through the thin flesh of a Lanthian’s wing was all that was required to send the wounded woman fluttering to the ground in pain, within reach of the warriors below. Lanthians fell one by one, only to be swiftly cut down.
Aside from Truthseekers, the Arkos maneuvered through the jungle swifter than any human could hope to achieve. Climbing, leaping from branch to branch, their striped bodies were nearly feline as they savagely turned their fury against the winged warriors. Lanthians struck with their spears to send their foes toppling from the branches, only to be met with metal claws.
Kunir saw an Arkos woman become hopelessly surrounded by Lanthians high above. Rather than beg for mercy, she leapt onto one of her foes, clawing and slashing as they both tumbled to the jungle floor with a sickening thud.
Flexible Arkos women and slender males fought above while the stronger and heavier males joined their human allies in battle below, cleaving through fallen Lanthians. Seeing their prowess, their skill, their fury, the Knight gladly regarded his Arkos allies with respect. Perhaps The God Emperor had been right to claim the desert first.
Kunir felt the constant barrage of Lanthian projectiles against his raised shield as he fought at Cendra’s side, doing much to keep The High Peacekeeper safe while she recklessly swung her sword to send waves of fire against the swarm.
Had the Lanthians rushed to attack the moment their scouts reported the legion’s arrival in the jungle, their supplies would have been limited. Hurled spears could not be reclaimed. At the very edge of the city, however, Lanthian warriors who ran out of projectiles swiftly retreated into Nenian where they were met by slaves rushing to supply them with fresh weapons.
The swarm would not stop. Nor would The God Emperor.
Marching, fighting, forcing their way through the chaos of falling bodies and the rain of spears, the flames of Privictis Knights cut down all who stood in their path. When they were finally within range of the city, standing far below the edge of the closest structures, they halted.
Kunir felt his pounding heart quicken further. He knew what was required of him.
The God Emperor’s burning blade was a beacon in the slaughter as he lifted it above his head. Raging, flames churning and gathering, the power of their holy ruler roared through the air, bringing burning death to all in the path of his flames.
Screams echoed as his fire erupted through the structures far above, consuming the ancient woodwork in a raging inferno. With glowing silver eyes, The God Emperor offered no mercy. His gaze held no pity. Death continued to pour from his blade to consume Nenian.
All around him, Privictis Knights did as they had been instructed. They lifted their hands, hurling flames from their fingertips to join their ruler’s. A vast wave of destruction arched through the air to meet the burning city.
Kunir sheathed his blade and raised his hand like his companions. He felt the heat of their flames scorching the air. He heard the shrieks coming from horrified Lanthian warriors…and above.
He glanced at Princess Cendra, seeing her flames pouring freely while her features remained a statue of stern stone. He peered at his own hand, yet unlit.
They all understood why they fought. They all knew the price of peace.
“Mercy for Nenian is an act of cruelty towards all future Lanthians,” Kunir remembered The God Emperor’s words just before the battle.
One Knights among dozens, one raised hand among the flames, he instead squeezed his hand into a fist. No fire came from his fingertips, yet he watched the city burn above.
Their cloaks fluttered in the scorching breeze as embers rained down around them. Smoke suffocated the jungle as the structures began to shatter and crumble. They fell in great heaps, crashing heavily to the ground in great plumes of fire, yet still the power of The God Emperor and his Knights continued to flow.
A city died above them, for their raging flames gradually spread across ancient walkways. They marched through the wreckage, driving their flames into the heart of the city above step after step.
The battle continued to echo all around, yet the resolve of the Lanthians withered and fell with their city.
38th of Senin, 22 AVE.
Kingdom of Waith, Nenian.
Salik could still remember the screams echoing through the trees. Inhaling, he could smell the aroma of death all around.
Standing on a branch high above the jungle floor, he peered down at the smoldering wreckage of what had once been Nenian. At the very edge of the destruction, he saw the charred land below.
He and his agents had followed the legion across the desert and into the jungle, as planned. They had watched their enemy. They had witnessed the slaughter, and they had beheld the destruction.
Salik held no particular love for the Lanthians. A select few individuals among The Agents of Shai were wingless Lanthian males, of course, yet he cared little for the original homelands of the indoctrinated outsiders among his agents. As he stared at the charred remains of once great trees now standing without a purpose, surrounded by ash and smoldering wreckage, his heart ached with guilt.
He could have stopped this.
His plans had failed. The God Emperor still lived, and they possessed no leverage to stop him.
Now the human’s madness had reduced an entire city to ash, and Salik had been helpless to stop him.
His red eyes stared down at the haunting scene before him. A great wound had been burned into the jungle, scarring the land. He stood in shadows, yet the endless canopy of ancient branches ahead was gone, leaving a vast area where sunlight beat down upon barren land and the scorched, blackened trunks. Fires continued to burn even a day later among the heaps of ruined wood that had once been a city.
Though Salik lingered on a branch at the very edge of the devastation, there was little risk he’d be seen. Without a city to occupy, there was little reason for the legion to remain. The God Emperor’s horde merely continued their march deeper into the jungle, leaving the remains of Nenian behind. Loud bloodshed and destruction had given way to an eerily quiet peace, as if the jungle itself had been left in a state of shock.
The quiet evening was far from silent, however. In the aftermath of the battle, all remaining Lanthian warriors had either been forced to surrender or flee. The day following the battle had seen whatever survivors of Nenian attempting to search the wreckage in the wake of the legion’s departure, pulling anyone who still lived from the ashes. Now, as the day neared its end, their efforts and mourning had begun to fade, for those who remained began to search for aid elsewhere. Only the lost and hopeless still wandered the black destruction below.
Salik knew his enemy well. It wasn’t difficult to assess the strategy of The Empire. The legion marched on, safe in the knowledge that an unguarded city did not wait to be retaken at their backs.
He understood from a tactical perspective, yet never would he approve. The God Emperor had gone too far once more, and he had merely watched.
The black surface of the tiny vase in his grasp felt cool in his hand, having briefly removed his gloves to endure the excessive heat and humidity. He thought of the Wrolik poison inside.
Watching the lingering flames, his grip tightened. He began to squeeze the stone vase, smelling the smoke in the air.
When he felt something wet in his hand, he was snapped from his thoughts. Looking down, he realized his fingernails had dug into his palm enough to draw blood.
He held out his hand. Dril blood flowed over the vase’s surface, dripping to the jungle floor far below. Salik could not weep for the Lanthians. His black blood fell in place of tears.
“We are ready to travel,” a quiet voice came from behind. Turning, he saw a fellow agent on a nearby branch. “I see no purpose in lingering longer.”
Salik nodded. He could not argue. His excuse to stay had been to replenish their supplies from the jungle. Now, it was time to follow the legion once more, yet first he pulled a message cylinder from his belt and held it out to his side without looking back. “For The Potentate’s eyes.”
The Dril agent took the cylinder without a word. Salik heard him go, no doubt to prepare one of the group’s Idrae to deliver the message. A thought of the winged creatures coaxed the memory of Ynisa. He closed his eyes behind his dark helmet.
As an Idrae took to the air, carrying his words across the vast land, Salik peered down at the poison in his grasp and recalled Ranos’s warning.
“Only a desperate man would make such an attempt.”
Securing the vase in one of the pouches of his belt, Salik donned his gloves to conceal his dried blood. He was not without a plan yet.
43rd of Senin, 22 AVE.
Kingdom of Waith, Near Nenian.
Sitting upon the trunk of a fallen tree, Kunir polished his already spotless blade. Away from the legion despite the danger, he sat in silent solitude.
Another long day of marching neared its end. While scouts searched for an ideal area to set up camp among the trees, the legion was permitted to rest. While the others mingled beneath the fading light trickling through the branches, Kunir instead had parted from the rest.
The noisy jungle wildlife all around did nothing to dampen the screams echoing in his memory. Even days after leaving what little remained of Nenian behind, he wasn’t certain if the lingering aroma of smoke was drifting through the air to follow them for miles, or if the smell was in his head.
He hadn’t added his flames to the destruction, yet he had watched.
His sandy hair hung wetly from the humidity. Rubbing the blade too hard, he winced as he cut himself. A minor wound, yet his blood dripped from his finger all the same.
“Care for some company?” a voice rang out to ruin his peace. He recognized it as belonging to Knight Nomax, one of his longest serving companions within The Privictis Order. A young man with long, dark hair, his white cloak and armor were coated in mud from their march.
He wanted to send him away with a harsh remark, yet he bit his tongue.
“You have that look, Kunir,” the young man said as he sat down beside him. “Don’t think the rest of us don’t see it. Don’t believe that some of us don’t share it.”
His jaw tightened. “Yet your flames flowed freely.”
“Indeed.” The statement made Nomax look down in shame. “I won’t celebrate what happened. I also won’t run from it. Our victory was a terrible, vile deed, yet it had to be done.”
“And the next victory?” Nenian was only the first. A small village and a minor city stood between them and The Capital of Waith. In mere days, the next in line would burn.
“And the next.” The Knight’s tone was low and bitter, yet full of certainty.
Kunir looked down at his blade. “What sort of men are we? Men who burn cities?”
“We are men who kill, who stain our blades, so no one else must,” Nomax answered. “You heard The God Emperor’s words. We could not have left Nenian unguarded without allowing our enemies to strike at us from behind. So too would many have been required to remain in the city to hold it. Do you recall the riots of Praith?”
Kunir waved his hand dismissively. He had heard the excuses. “That does not change what occurred. We slaughtered a city.”
The Knight nodded. “Indeed, we did.” He allowed the silence to linger for a long while. “The memory of the city crashing down makes me want to vomit,” he admitted quietly. “I see it in my dreams. I remember the heat burning around me, yet I’d do it again. Do you know why?”
Kunir merely scowled at the ground.
“I can endure it. I can do what is necessary, despite my disgust.” The Knight gritted his teeth. “We’re fighting for an Eternal Peace, for a world without bloodshed. If I must stain my blade, if I must curse myself for my deeds, I shall endure, for all the generations to come deserve a better world.” His tone dropped once more. “And I shall weep for those who live in this foul era.”
Kunir stared at his blade. He stared at the white fabric of his cloak as it lay draped over his leg. “No.” The word came firmly. “That’s not good enough.”
Nomax watched his companion rise. “Kunir?”
“The slaughter of innocents for the vague promise of a better tomorrow? That’s not why I accepted this cloak.”
So too did Nomax rise. “Don’t be rash. What do you intend? To leave The Order like High Peacekeeper Clin?”
Kunir shot him a harsh look. “He would not have wanted this. He didn’t create The Order to serve as pawns to enact bloody deeds.” He sheathed his sword carefully, granting the weapon ample respect. “Though no, I’m not leaving. That too isn’t good enough.”
Whatever his reasons, whatever caused him to crumble, Lord Clin had abandoned them. Never could Kunir curse him, yet never could he agree with his decision.
The rumors from those who had overheard his argument with The God Emperor were dangerous to speak, yet Kunir remembered them. Clin had been a good man. Perhaps he truly had departed out of disgust. Perhaps he had been right to, a man refusing to play a part in horrid deeds.
Kunir could not merely step away. He could not wash his hands of vile deeds and merely cause no harm to others. To many good men, such a thing was enough. It wasn’t for him.
Clin had granted him his cloak for a reason. He’d use it. A good man in the right position could stand up and create change from within.
He would be no pawn. He would stand up. He would honor Clin and ensure the legacy he left behind would serve the good purpose it had been created for.
Kunir would fight.
Leaving his fellow Knight behind, he marched through the trees to join the others. An outsider could do little to sway powerful forces. Among them, a good man could do what was necessary.
The only question that remained was simple. How?
44th of Senin, 22 AVE.
Kingdom of Vaidrin, Omrin.
“Good, Varisa!” The sounds of a wooden sword smacking against a makeshift training dummy echoed through the tiny courtyard as Ynisa watched her young daughter with pride.
“Harder, girl!” her instructor, Rinvis, barked. Though he was human, he spoke the Dril tongue, having been raised as an agent of Shai since birth.
Ynisa put her hands on her hips as she watched, feeling the morning sun. Even after all these years, the warmth and humidity of Omrin never felt natural.
Salik had commanded her to deliver their daughter to Vesh when he sent her away, yet she had disobeyed. Even as her blood yearned for the snow of their homeland, she refused to return without him.
Watching her daughter train with the human, she glanced at the high walls of the courtyard. She knew life concealed within the safehouse was far from ideal for the girl. The tiny courtyard was the only world her daughter had ever been permitted to step out into, for never could they be seen by the population without exposing the presence of The Agents of Shai within the city.
Often, she found Varisa staring out at the city through the windows on the highest floor, the only few that weren’t permanently concealed. Though the girl spent much of her time watching the human citizens going about their lives, she no longer questioned why they could not join them. She had begun to understand the danger.
Her daughter’s sword lessons had done much to take Ynisa’s mind from her longing. Still far too young to properly train, Varisa was more than content to whack away at whatever Rinvis told her to.
Ynisa chuckled at the sight of her as she struck the training dummy particularly hard, knowing she would one day make an excellent agent of Shai. The thought coaxed a subtle sorrow a moment later, wondering if Salik would be proud. Varisa asked about him each night before going to bed.
She was growing swiftly. Every second, every day, every month Salik missed of his daughter was a tragedy, yet he had made his choice.
So too had she made hers.
As if conjured by her thoughts, she saw an Idrae descending from the sky towards the courtyard. “Message!” she called out, summoning a fellow Dril from within the safehouse.
The man, a tall Dril in a dark robe named Lyshi, permitted the sightless creature to land upon his forearm. More than familiar with his scent, the Idrae quivered happily before allowing Lyshi to take the message cylinder strapped to its leg.
Affectionately rubbing the creature’s long beak before permitting it to fly to the shallow fountain in the corner of the courtyard to rest after its long journey among several of its own kind, the man began to stride into the safehouse. As always, Ynisa was already moving to follow.
“Be good, Varisa,” she commanded, though the girl hardly noted her departure. Swiftly catching up, she emerged into the spacious chamber that had long become the common area of the safehouse, taking up much of the first floor.
Lyshi didn’t need to glance back at his follower to know she was there. Their routine was always the same. “It’s your lucky day, Ynisa.” He held up the cylinder, allowing her to see it over his shoulder. “And mine.”
As the safehouse in Omrin served as a central point for the vast message network of agents of Shai spread across The Vaid Empire and beyond, all manner of coded messages passed through their doors. They came in a wide variety of forms, a necessity to conceal their source from outsiders. Though the message in Lyshi’s grasp was a cylinder of human tradition, the faint markings on its surface revealed it had been sent by Salik himself.
“Marked for The Potentate’s eyes, no less,” the tall Dril continued with a chuckle.
Ynisa was nearly on his heels by the time Lyshi sat down at his table. The surface was littered with empty cylinders and writing utensils, for his duty was to manage communications for the safehouse.
Never did Ynisa pass up a chance to check where the messages originated from, yet only those with Salik’s mark interested her. She reached out to grab it, though Lyshi pulled it away. She sighed. “Please? Only a peek.”
He chuckled, as did the other agents around them who lounged in the common area while awaiting orders. They all knew their game. Though Ynisa’s pet Idrae was often trusted to send messages, she didn’t possess the clearance to read them. Lyshi alone had earned such trust. “Really, Ynisa. One would think you’d learn the price by now.”
Blushing as the others laughed, she gritted her teeth. “My daughter is just outside. Show me this one for free, just this once.”
“The door is closed. She won’t notice,” he replied smugly. “If you want a peek, you know what you have to do.”
More than a little annoyed, she sighed before reluctantly lowering herself to her knees before him. “Fine. Make it quick.”
Lyshi dared to caress her cheek while she unfastened his robe. “When are you going to let me use this pretty mouth of yours?” His fingers traced upwards, brushing the loose strands of dark hair that had escaped one of the buns on either side of her head. When she swiftly smacked his hand away, he pretended to be hurt.
“Only when you’re prepared to risk me biting it off,” she shot back. Taking hold of his manhood and pulling it through the opening of his robe, she held the pale shaft in front of her. With a tight grip, she began to stroke it with a mixture of disinterest and impatience.
The agents littered throughout the room casually turned to watch her. Fellow Dril, humans, and Arkos, it was hardly the first time they had witnessed her perform such a deed.
Lyshi moaned at her touch, melting into his chair with visible pleasure. Ynisa’s lips merely tightened with annoyance, stroking his unimpressive cock up and down.
The Potentate, a man she greatly respected, often spoke of Dril equality, of how no Dril should have power over another. He spoke of corruption and how he had purged it from The Council. She wondered what he’d do if he knew just how deeply the corruption truly went.
A fellow Dril had something she desperately needed, something she wasn’t permitted to have. The secrets Lyshi was sworn to protect had a simple price, and she was willing to pay it.
Eagerly savoring her soft hand, the tall Dril gestured to her chest. “A message for The Potentate himself? I think I deserve a little more, don’t you?”
Biting her lip with annoyance, Ynisa didn’t argue. As they couldn’t be seen by the outside humans regardless of what they wore, she had chosen to wear a traditional Dril dress. Made of comfortable black fabric, its short length concealed only the tops of her smooth thighs, the sides split to reveal more of her form. Wanting their deal to be done quickly, she hesitated only slightly before reaching up with her free hand to pull her dress down, exposing one of her perky yet petite breasts.
Drinking in the sight of her small, pink nipple, he groaned.
Her pointed Dril ear twitched at the sound of her companions muttering and chuckling among each other. She glanced over to see another Dril slide his hand beneath his own robe, obviously beginning to pleasure himself to the sight.
Though the snow-colored skin of her cheeks darkened, she offered no complaint, merely continuing to stroke Lyshi. She would know what Salik’s message held.
There was no hint of guilt in the deed. She was Salik’s assistant, not his love. She respected him. She would serve him dutifully as she always had despite how he had discarded her, though she expected no exclusivity. After more than two years away from his side, she knew he had almost certainly enjoyed other lovers. It changed nothing, nor would…this.
“A little more,” Lyshi insisted. When she offered a glare, he held the cylinder up to taunt her. “Show me. That’s all I ask.”
Rolling her red eyes, Ynisa sighed. “If I must.” Reaching down, she grabbed the edge of her dress. Aware of the other pairs of eyes upon her, she slowly pulled her dress up to expose everything below her narrow waist. Lustful mutterings echoed throughout the chamber.
Peering down to see the smooth sex between her white legs, Lyshi moaned loudly. “What I’d give to grant you another daughter,” he muttered.
“With this? Unlikely.” She squeezed his short manhood, making him bite his lip. “Besides, I’ll never let you feel between my thighs,” she said as she parted her legs further.
Her harsh tone did nothing to dampen his enjoyment. Obsessing over the sight of her alluring lower half, suffering a deep craving for a body he would never be allowed to touch, he rapidly approached his finish.
She could hear the others. Her companions, her voyeurs, they all gazed at her deed, at her body. Those behind her were permitted to behold her round rump, seeing her svelte curves. Her Dril skin was as smooth and white as polished marble, easily coaxing their desires.
Wishing to hurry Lyshi’s pleasure further, she begrudgingly let her free hand trace over her thigh. With an annoyed breath, she found her groin, using her fingers to gently spread her lower lips. Lyshi leaned forward to get a better view, seeing the soft, pink labia she would never allow him to touch.
He groaned loudly. The others muttered and chuckled among themselves. A Lanthian agent behind her, having been castrated by his former mistresses, merely rubbed his mutilated groin through the fabric of his clothing. An Arkos woman to her side slid her own hand beneath her skirt, parting her grey thighs as she pleasured herself.
One of the Dril males snapped his fingers, commanding a human agent to kneel before him as Ynisa did before Lyshi. Knowing her place, the woman eagerly began to stroke her Dril companion before pressing her lips to his cock.
Lyshi’s price had ignited a chain reaction. The common area was filled with moans within minutes.
“I told you to be quick,” Ynisa chided him, quickening her pace. Her hand glided up and down his short cock swiftly. “I’m tempted to leave you like this.”
“Oh, worry…ahh…not.” He offered her a knowing smile.
“You had better warn me this time, else I’ll-” Her words were cut off as his pale cock began to spit. His Dril seed squirted across her face, making her gasp in surprise. Releasing him as his sperm began to leak over her annoyed features, she snatched the edge of his robe and wiped her face. “Scum.”
“Scum? Yes, but scum that upholds his bargains.” He inhaled deeply as he recovered from his finish. Hearing the moans continuing to echo through the chamber, he handed over the cylinder at last. “I look forward to the next message.”
Ynisa rose to her feet and pulled her dress back down, brushing the fabric. She didn’t bother to glance over at the others in the room, hearing their amusement. She saw only the cylinder in her grasp.
As her companions continued to pleasure themselves and each other, she emptied the cylinder onto Lyshi’s table. Hardly needing to clear her mind after what she had done, caring little about the act, she began to translate the coded message using one of Lyshi’s various ciphers.
The words were cold and formal, yet her stomach tightened at the knowledge that they came from Salik.
She knew from reading his previous messages about the failures and struggles his group of agents had faced after her forced departure. She knew of their botched kidnapping and of Lord Hesin’s death. She knew they had crossed the desert, and at last, she learned that Salik continued to follow the human legion into the jungle.
She made note of his location, for the message reported of the complete destruction of Nenian. So too did Salik mention their next likely destination, for the humans clearly sought to march against The Capital of Waith.
Pausing, she attempted to calculate how long it would take her to reach his position. Was it possible to cross hundreds of miles to intercept him before he moved on? It was a foolish thought, yet one she couldn’t help but ponder with each of his messages.
Continuing to read, she felt her stomach tighten further, yet this time with worry as the words detailed Salik’s next plan, awaiting The Potentate’s approval.
They had failed to capture the boy, Prince Cliax. With The God Emperor’s grandson forever beyond his reach, his focus had shifted to a new target. When the time was right, when an opportunity presented itself, he would kidnap Princess Jinilya, intending to use her life as leverage against their enemy.
She cared not for the specific details, biting her lip as she sealed the cylinder. Every attempt against their enemy risked Salik’s fall. She hoped only that he’d succeed, allowing them to return to their homeland together at last.
“Hope it was worth the price. If you’re done, send it along,” Lyshi commanded, though she ignored him.
Drifting to the door as if the others and their moans did not exist, hearing the sound of an Arkos cock driving into a human vagina nearby, she remained deep in thought as she stepped out into the tiny courtyard. The sight of her daughter only deepened her thoughts.
Indeed, she was not Salik’s love, his exclusive mate, though the truth was far more complex. She had served as his dutiful assistant until the birth. Now, as she looked at Varisa, she saw traces of Salik in her young features.
She hadn’t believed that anything would be as important as serving The Agents of Shai until her daughter’s birth. Now, she stood in two worlds at once, her duty and her motherhood. Salik was the link between both.
Crossing the courtyard to the fountain, she found her Idrae, Talik, sipping the water. The eyeless creature flapped its white wings at her scent and leapt onto her shoulder.
“For The Potentate, my friend,” she muttered as she strapped the cylinder to her pet’s leg. As highly intelligent as the creature’s species was, it mattered little if he could understand her words. Having been dipped in a particular liquid prior to being sent by Salik, the cylinder’s faint scent told the creature of its intended destination. Its advanced training and keen senses would take it in the direction of Shai, hundreds of miles away. “Safe travels.”
As she watched Talik take to the sky, she returned her attention to her daughter’s training.
The girl was as much a part of Sailk as her. Ynisa supposed, in that simple, beautiful way, she did love him. They had created something together, someone.
“I’ll return, and so shall she. On that, you have my word.” The memory of her promise to Salik echoed in her thoughts. She would do whatever she could to ensure he returned alive.
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