Suriax (16 page)

* * *

Elisteen pulled out a loaf of bread and
smiled with satisfaction. It was a perfect golden brown. She
checked the rolls and started the next batch of dough. This job
wasn’t as easy as when she was younger, but she still enjoyed the
work, and she enjoyed creating a good product people could
appreciate. She wiped her brow and stopped in shock. Standing on
the other side of the counter was King Pielere. He smiled warmly
and wished her a good morning. She stumbled over a greeting. One of
the three Alerian monarchs stood in her little bakery. No one would
believe it. She didn’t believe it. “What can I get you, Your
Majesty?”

“What do you recommend?”

“The sweet rolls are a specialty of mine,”
she beamed proudly, handing him several on a plate. “Here, on the
house.”

He thanked her and sat at one of the tables.
Elisteen pretended to clean, all the while watching him from the
corner of her eye. He ate slowly with all the refinement of a
royal, not dripping any glaze or spilling any crumbs. She almost
jumped out of her skin when the back door opened. “Alnerand, what
are you doing here? You should be resting.”

“I’m fine.” He pulled out an apron and put it
on with a grimace. “I can help you.” He attempted to tie the apron
and gave up, holding on to his arm.

She pushed up his sleeve to reveal an array
of purple, blue and black bruises. Holding on to his arm tight
enough to make him flinch, and thus prove her point, she berated
him. “This is not fine. You are lucky you can even use this arm
right now. If that horse had kicked any harder, it would have
broken the bone.”

“I’m okay, Grandma.” He put his other hand
over hers and smiled reassuringly.

“Is that so?” another voice said. Their
landlord, Grieland, and his entourage walked up to the counter.
Casually on purpose, they knocked over her plants. The glass vases
broke into many small shards and soil spilled out on the floor.
Laughing, they grabbed some bread out of the display case on the
counter and made a point out of eating it in front of her. “In that
case, you should have shown up for your work this morning.”

“I am at work,” Alnerand responded, angrily.
As a point, he reached around, ignoring the pain, and tied his
apron in place.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You owe me fifty
silver for that wagon you broke, yesterday.”

“Your horse kicked me into that wagon.”

“Maybe you should have done a better job
shoeing him.”

“I’m not a farrier or a blacksmith. I’m a
baker.”

“You are what I say you are if you want your
grandmother to keep her home.”

“Is this how you normally treat your
tenants?” the king asked, speaking at last.

“Mind your own business,” Grieland replied
without looking back. Chair legs scraped against the floor, and the
tone in the room shifted as everyone else saw who was in the room.
Sensing the change, Grieland turned and backed against the counter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

Pielere walked toward the group. All the
others parted immediately, eyes darting to the door as they
considered making an escape. “Perhaps it is time your permits and
licenses came under review. As I know you are aware, we have strong
ethics codes that pertain to all business conducted in the city.
Violation of these codes can be a very serious offense.” Grieland
didn’t speak, too afraid to move. “Now, I believe you were about to
pay the lady for the food your group has eaten and the damage you
and your friends have done.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Shaking, he pulled
out a coin purse and removed a handful of silver. Pielere raised an
eyebrow and he quickly added a few gold pieces. “Excellent. Someone
will be visiting you within the week to go over your business
dealings and conduct interviews. You may go.” The lot of them
bolted from the bakery. Alnerand laughed and hugged Elisteen. She
felt tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You have no idea
what this means to us.”

Pielere inclined his head in response.
“Contact the palace should you have any further problems with that
man. Thank you for the sweet rolls. They were excellent.” With that
he left. Still in disbelief over what just happened, Elisteen went
over to his table to clean and found a small bag sitting there. It
was a simple brown bag with gold trim and a leather drawstring.
Opening the bag, she found it full of coins.

“Grandmother, what is that?” Alnerand
asked.

“A miracle,” she answered. “A miracle.”

* * *

Maerishka looked out her balcony at the city.
The fires were mostly out. The initial chaos that followed the
night of blue fire was beginning to ebb. Already, people were
beginning to master their new skills. She thought to herself, it
should make the Tournament of Fire interesting when it restarted in
a month. She grinned. Her people were nothing if not adaptive. Of
course it was little fun to burn someone who could burn you back.
The fire was a great equalizer, making every citizen a dangerous
weapon. Those wishing to exploit their new strength on those weaker
had mostly crossed the border to Aleria. The Alerians were easy
prey. She contemplated sending her troops across the border to
wrest control of the city from her sniveling half siblings, but she
knew better than to underestimate the strength of their military.
Their lands were vast, and they could easily call
reinforcements.

“Your Highness,” Svanteese entered. Even he
looked nervous to be around her, now. While everyone was effected
by the fire, none were as much so as she. Her body maintained an
unnaturally high temperature no amount of healing spells could
remedy. Her skin was hot to the touch and if she maintained
physical contact for too long, she could burn another without
calling forth the flames. Another useful side effect was she could
not herself be burned, and her mastery of the flames far exceeded
that of anyone else.

“Laureen is here to see you.”

Maerishka hid her surprise. They had not
spoken in person in almost ten years. Until now, they only
communicated via magical means and couriered messages. Travel
between the two cities was prohibited as it could lead to others
learning of her identity. Travel across the border was not
restricted, but it was monitored, especially for palace staff and
their families. “Let her in.” The girl who entered looked meek and
unassuming. Her clothes were simple servant’s garb. Her hair was
pulled back in a loose braid. Dirt smudged her face. It was all a
lie. Laureen was a deadly warrior within the Flame Guard and one of
her main spies stationed in Aleria.

“Why have you come here?”

“I’m afraid I will no longer be able to serve
in my former capacity. Getting struck down with blue fire in the
middle of a crowded room was a little difficult to explain. The
palace now checks all guests and servants for the flame mark on our
necks.”

“I see.”

“I did learn one thing that you may find
useful.” Laureen hastened to add.

“Go on.”

“There was a member of the Flame Guard by the
name of Kern Tygierrenon staying as a special guest at the palace.
He broke in to the quarters of the queen, but instead of having him
arrested, they gave him a room and servants to attend him. Word
around the palace is that he is their brother.”

Maerishka felt her eyes widen reflexively.
This was her first confirmation his claim to her throne could be
legitimate. If they allowed him to remain in the palace, they must
believe him. “Anything else?”

The tone in her voice must have given
something away, because Laureen instantly stiffened. “No, your
highness.”

“In that case,” Maerishka walked forward and
ran a finger casually across Laureen’s arm. She sucked in a quick
breath, clearly uncomfortable but attempting to hide her
discomfort. “Your services will no longer be needed.” Maerishka
walked back to her desk and poured a drink.

Laureen gripped her arm, no longer trying to
hide her pain. “What did you do to me?”

“That burning you feel in your arm will soon
spread through your veins, into the rest of your body. Your blood
is beginning to boil,” she described. “You are cooking from the
inside out. Don’t worry,” she said at the look of panic in her
eyes. “It will be excruciating, but once the heat reaches your
brain, you will go too crazy to know what is happening.” After
that, her only response was screams.

* * *

Kern felt déjà vu as he stared at the palace.
There wasn’t as much fighting in Suriax as he expected to find, but
the destruction left over was evident. He grabbed his spare
guardsman clothes, taking a moment to look around his one time
home. Seeing his uncle’s chair brought back all the pain he felt in
his dream. He shook it off, reminding himself it wasn’t real. His
uncle was safe and happy in Aleria. About to leave, he saw
something green and blue beside the chair, on the floor. He picked
up his mother’s scarf. The yarn was rough but warm. He thought back
to the day she gave it to Frex. That was the last day either of
them saw her alive. That was the last day either of them saw her,
period, he amended. They weren’t able to go to her funeral. He was
never able to pay his respects. She sacrificed to keep him safe, to
protect him from his father. What would she think of the man he
became? Would she think it was all worth it? Feeling unusually
retrospective, probably a side effect of whatever Eirae did to him,
Kern wrapped the scarf around his neck and tucked it under his
coat. It was a little warm to be wearing a scarf, but he did not
care. This was all he had of his mother, a woman he never truly
appreciated, and he wanted it close to him. Closing the door to his
home, Kern left.

* * *

Maerishka stood at her balcony. The room
still smelled of burnt flesh. Leaving the window open to let the
smell out, she returned to her inner chamber and changed into a new
gown for Lord Alvexton’s departure. He was the only visiting
dignitary to stay after the chaos of the night of fire. He was to
return home briefly to see to some issues needing his attention,
but he planned to return once the tournament resumed. She smiled.
It appeared she was right to choose him as her paramour. So what if
he didn’t know he was chosen, yet? It wasn’t really his choice,
anyway. She would get what she wanted, one way or another. And once
he was under her thumb completely, she would have access to a great
deal more land and resources. Yes, a union between them would be
very beneficial to her.

The hair on her neck stood on end, a strange
shiver running down her back. Looking around, she confirmed she was
alone. Maerishka stepped back into the main room and paused. A
flame guardsman stood by the window, leaning casually against the
frame. “Hello, Sister.”

“Kern Tygierrenon, I presume.”

He inclined his head in confirmation. “I must
say,” Kern ran a hand along the curtain absentmindedly, “your
palace is much easier to break into than our siblings up north. You
should probably have someone look into enhancing your
security.”

“I don’t need security.” Maerishka poured a
drink, purposefully turning her back to him to appear unconcerned
by his presence. She swallowed the drink and allowed it to fortify
her and calm her unease. “You call me sister, but I do not know
you?” She turned back to face him.

“I am your half brother. My mother hid me
from our father.”

“I suppose you want to exploit our blood
connection for some sort of high ranking political or military
position. Or perhaps you just wish for money.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I want to be left alone. Call off your
guards and leave me and my friends alone. If your desire was to
keep our relationship secret it is too late.”

“That changes nothing.” She walked toward him
and put her hand on his chest. Kern eyed her suspiciously. Through
his jacket and scarf, he began to feel an immense heat. He jumped
back and the heat dissipated. He could see the surprise in her
eyes. “You do not burn?”

“Just special, I guess.” Anger flared in her
eyes.

“What do you want from me?” Kern dodged
Maerishka’s flame encircled fist.

“I want you to die.” She reached for him and
the fire flared out, burning the side of his face before he could
move.

In response to the pain, his hands came alive
with fire. Stepping back from another advance, he forced the fire
to go out. Whatever else he was, he would not attack his own
sister, even if she was trying to kill him, even if she killed
their father. He was not her. He wasn’t the mindless killer his
brothers thought him to be. Deciding further conversation was
pointless at the moment he jumped off the balcony, swinging down on
the rope he left tied there. Maerishka jumped off the balcony, her
fall slowing just before she reached the ground. Her feet touched
down softly on the grass. It figured she’d have a slow descent
spell enchanting something she wore. “Royals,” he swore under his
breath. Kern ducked as another flame shot over his head and stepped
to the right, jumping over a small stone wall to put some distance
between them. He needed a plan. The wall of the building in front
of him went up in flames. He stopped and turned to face her. “I
don’t want your throne. I’m no threat to you.”

She held her hands in front of her, ready to
shoot another flame at him at any moment. “Maybe not now, but what
is to stop you from changing your mind in a year or ten? I need to
get rid of you now, before anyone else finds out you exist and uses
it to undermine my authority. You have to die.”

“You enjoy killing your family that
much?”

The dig actually caught her off guard. Her
hands lowered a fraction of an inch. “I killed our father and my
mother in self defense. They were going to have me murdered. Father
believed I would betray him.” She didn’t know why she felt the need
to defend her actions. She was always more than happy to let
everyone else believe her a cold blooded, power hungry killer. But
she cared for her parents at one time. Their betrayal struck her
hard, killing what was left of her compassion. Of course she wasn’t
that surprised her father didn’t trust her, but her mother was
another matter. She thought they were close. Her mother taught her
to fight, taught her how to lead. Her mother made her who she was,
and in an instant it was all gone.