The Ultimate Price

“At least it’s something that you’re used to.” Vixin laughed awkwardly as Gestarin stared at the corpses on the ground. “People seem to try to kill you every day.”

“I’m not sure that’s a comfort.” Kiinrin said slowly, his arms still around Ilyira.  “Shouldn’t he feel better if he knows that people aren’t going to try and kill him?”

“That seems the most logical.” Jiriinii nodded.

“Hush, children.” Gestarin said bluntly, rubbing his temples. “I need to be able to think.” He looked back at Lord Valanal. “Why would they try to kill me again?”

“Highking Yrit is a man of immense pride.” Valanal mused, removing his helmet and shaking out a mane of white hair. “Perhaps, learning of his high position, he wished to dispose of all others who shared it.” He nodded at the three bodies. “Three assassins, three others chosen. Doesn’t seem like much of a coincidence.”

“What kind of idiocy would lead Liranif to condone such actions?” Iniriija hissed from the mirror. Ilyira and Nyrin tensed, confused about the voice. Valanal, however, simply smiled.

“Greetings, Lady Iniriija.” He bowed in the direction of the shattered looking glass. “It has been too long.”

“Too long indeed.” Iniriija laughed. “Though I believe that last time we met I was in a significantly different place.”

Valanal laughed too, a deep, throaty sound that brought joy to the air. “Indeed, indeed. How go the preparations? Are Lords Nirnik and  Nirastig behaving themselves?”

“As much as we are able.” Nirastig said sarcastically. “When required, we will work together.”

“I thought as much.” Valanal held back a grin. Gestarin was surprised at the ease with which the Seat of Jod communicated with the strange reflections. His words with Iniriija confused the King greatly. Where had Valanal had the opportunity to meet them?

“What do you suggest we do, Lord Valanal?” Gestarin cut in, hoping to steer the conversation back onto matters of importance. “Do we retaliate?”

“In all truth, your majesty, I do not know.” Valanal shook his head. “Highking Yrit’s motives escape even me.” He grimaced. “Perhaps that is why I was sent.”

“What were you sent for?” Kiinrin questioned. “If it isn’t too much to ask.”

“Not at all, Lord Kiinrin.” Valanal said. “I was sent by Aia to oversee the events that are to come.” He pointed at the mirror. “To supervise them.”

“Something we still disagree on.” Nirnik said darkly. “I don’t understand why Aia would call you to supervise us. It seems a bit redundant.”

“Redundancy is one of Aia’s specialties.” Valanal laughed. “Contingency plans are never foolish to have, should something go awry.”

“But this day has been spoken of for centuries!” Nirnik protested, sounding less like a divine being and more like an insolent child. “Surely everything will fall into place.”

“You tell me, servant of Aia.” Valanal growled, all amiability gone. He kicked one of the corpses fiercely. “Had this happened, would everything still have fallen into place?”

Nirnik was silent.

Gestarin coughed uncomfortably and raised his hand. “Who were these men, Lord Valanal? How were they enlisted into Yrit’s service?”

“They are Harvesters, your majesty.” Valanal said. He walked over to one of them and ripped off the black cloak it wore. Underneath the man wore a priests robe, complete with painted streaks of red to signify blood. Or was that real blood? “Or were, rather. They seem to have fallen ill to the disease humans like to call ‘death’.” He grinned wickedly. “Quite infectious, really.”

“Yes, Lord Valanal, we applaud your skills with the blade.” Nirastig sneered. “But perhaps you would like to suggest a course of action? The moment is drawing fast, and we still do not have all of the needed members assembled.”

“Yes of course.” Valanal waved his hand nonchalantly. He looked at everyone else in turn. “Perhaps we should go with the old-fashioned approach, then.”

“The old-fashioned approach?” Gestarin said doubtfully, not sure which method it was.

“Break down his door and hold a sword point to his neck.” Valanal shrugged. ‘It would work on me.”

Gestarin stared dumbly at him before laughing uproariously. “What you suggest is madness!” He looked at the others, who all nodded fervently. All except Efstany.

“Really?” Valanal replied. The Jod looked somewhat offended. “I thought it was quite good, really. I’m not much for beating around the bush with pleasantries. If you’re going to threaten a man with violence, it’s better to just get to the point quickly.”

“But how are we even supposed to get to his mansion?” Vixin scoffed. He held up his hands. “Don’t misunderstand, I would love nothing more than to hold the edge of my blade against that rat’s neck. But we have to be reasonable here. How are we- six Jods, a Flen, the King of Glausiania, and a reputed murderer- supposed to walk down the streets and just meander into the Highking’s mansion?” He shook his head. “It just can’t be done.”

“Actually,” Jiriinii said, raising a hand meekly. “It can.” She coughed awkwardly. “Though we are going to have to speak with Inalla.”

Gestarin’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Inalla? Forgive me for being blunt, but what could she know about this?”

“Quite a bit, actually.” Jiriinii grinned. “There’s a reason she was able to keep away from me so easily.”

* * *

“Be careful of the water.” Inalla cautioned as they crept through the dank sewers. “It’ll most likely have leeches in it.”

“Leeches?” Jiriinii nearly screeched. “You didn’t say anything about those!”

Inalla shrugged. “Would you have taken this route if I had?”

Gestarin chuckled as he listened to his daughters banter back and forth. Aia above, he had missed this. It seemed like it had been centuries since Jiriinii had been with Inalla, arguing over whether a sword or a hairbrush was the more valuable item.

He shook his head and steeled himself as a lump started to form in his throat. Thinking about those days wasn’t going to help. This was how it was: one daughter now a young woman and another left almost completely alone.

Aia’s blood, what had this world come to that a man had to watch a daughter grow into an adult right before his eyes?

“I’m also put off by the mention of leeches.” Vixin said disgustedly. “Not to mention the general… ah… debris that I have to step in.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Inalla snapped. “Were you expecting a nice quick carriage ride? Maybe refreshments before we nip into the Highking’s personal chambers?” Inalla shook her head. “Sometimes, Viceroy, you have to rough it.”

“Little one,” Vixin said softly. “I have lived in places like these. I complain because I swore I would never enter them again.”

Inalla’s eyes widened and her expression softened. “I apologize, Viceroy.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to offend…”

“No, princess.” Vixin smiled. “It’s alright. A personal quest, not yours.” He sighed. “Though the this place makes the Xexeran cenotes smell like a beautiful flower garden.”

Everyone laughed, Efstany included. It was the first emotion Gestarin had seen in the Flen since Yijiiru. He made his way next to the man and took a deep breath.

“I need to apologize, Efstany.” He said, dropping all formality. “My anger clouded my thoughts.”

“Apologize for what, your majesty?” Efstany said, and he seemed serious.

“I had no faith in you.” Gestarin shook his head. “I thought that you would not be able to change, to become better. I have only ever seen Flens do harm.”

Efstany smiled kindly. “It’s a good thing I am not a true Flen, then.” The entire party ground to halt as every single member turned to look at Efstany. Valanal and Vilkanai looked especially surprised.

“What do you mean, Goodman?” Valanal said gently. “That seems an impossible claim.”

“Impossible is too small of a word.” Vilkanai added. “Inconceivable would be better.”

“Regardless, it is true.” Efstany nodded. “I may look like a Flen, and be endowed as a Flen, but that is only half of who I am.”

“Explain.” Gestarin ordered, folding his arms.

Efstany took a deep breath. “Do you remember the night during our travels, your majesty, that I told you about my life as a child?”

“Vaguely.” Gestarin nodded. “What of it?”

“Do you remember the event that I ended with?”

A chill went through Gestarin’s body, and he suppressed a shiver. The thing Efstany spoke of, the night he was discovered by Flens… It was too much for anybody to think of.

Wait.

Efstany, a Flen, had ended his memories with encountering Flens in his bedroom. He had never told Gestarin any more than that. It was almost as if Efstany couldn’t remember any more than that. Is that when it…

“I do remember that.” Gestarin said. “As hard as I try not to, I do remember it.”

Efstany was looking at him like he was a child who had just read his first words. “Your majesty,” He said slowly with a nod. “You already know what I am about to say.”

Gestarin began to nod slowly, though it made the other members of the party shake their heads in confusion.

“Perhaps you would be able to tell us, oh great one.” Vixin said sarcastically. “Our puny brains cannot comprehend what the cryptic one is trying to tell us.”

Valanal snorted. “I agree with the Viceroy, your majesty. What exactly is this man trying to say?”

“When he was a child,” Gestarin began, quickly explaining the backstory. “He woke up one night to find his sister murdered by a soldier to create a Bloodblade. Flens came to Harvest the man who did it.” He pointed at Efstany. “I believe that they accidentally Harvested him as well.”

Efstany nodded. “That is correct, Lord Gestarin.”

“But,” Vilkanai objected. “How could that be? Why would a Flen Harvest an innocent? Even Cixusa had the appearance of wickedness.”

“The Flen who did it was destroyed as soon as he took me to the Void.” Efstany explained. “Aia made an example of him. He was vaporized in a white light and thrust away from the Void.”

A clatter sounded as Lord Vilkanai fell to the ground, his hands clamped against his head. Air hissed as he sucked in breaths between clenched teeth, and he shook as if caught with an intense chill.

“Vilkanai!” Kiinrin yelled, rushing over to and falling down on his knees beside the trembling Jod. He looked desperately to Valanal. “What’s happening?”

Valanal wasn’t looking at him; he was staring with an open mouth at Efstany. His face was pale in the lantern light, and there was an air of disbelief around him.

“That’s impossible.” He whispered. “How could that be true?”

“Would you all put away your incredulity and help me?” Kiinrin nearly screamed, and Valanal seemed shaken out of his reverie. He looked over at the fallen Jod and seemed to truly see him for the first time.

“Draw your Blade, Kiinrin.” He ordered softly. “Then stab Lord Vilkanai in the heart.”

“What are you bloody talking about?” Kiinrin yelled. “How will that help?” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t have left Nyrin and Ilyira back at the palace. They’re the best healers we have.”

“Just do it.” Valanal said calmly. He looked Kiinrin directly in the eye. “Trust me.”

Kiinrin hesitated, but he nodded and pulled the bone spike from his wrist. A pure white Blade formed, and he held it above Vilkanai’s chest before looking at Valanal. The Seat of Jod nodded, and Kiinrin plunged it into his companions chest for a moment before pulling it out again. Vilkanai instantly stilled and let out a ragged breath. His hands slowly fell from his head and his eyes flew open.

“What happened?” He croaked in a hoarse voice. “Why am I on the ground?”

“We were about to ask you the same question, my friend.” Valanal whispered. He knelt down next to Vilkanai. “What did happen?” Vilkanai began to answer, but Valanal held up a hand. “I do not mean now.” He looked intently at the other Jod. “What happened fifteen years ago?”

Vilkanai looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “My lord…”

Valanal smiled. “It’s alright, my friend. I know now how you were sent to us, and I know why.” He held out a hand. Vilkanai grabbed it gingerly and hoisted himself to his feet. Before he could say a single word, Valanal wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Forgive me for sounding like a child,” Vixin said awkwardly. “But what in the name of Aia’s bloody blood is going on?”

Valanal laughed as he let of the disoriented Jod. “I will let lord Vilkanai explain.” He looked over at Vilkanai, who was still trembling slightly. “It is better that way.”

“For the moment, my name is not Vilkanai.” Vilkanai said with a sniff. “Call me Draxos.” Everyone in the vicinity stiffened.

“Draxos?” Gestarin said, and his eyes widened. “Draxos Bloodrite? The butcher of Loxis?”

“The very one.” Draxos Bloodrite said gravely. “Thirty years ago I was murdering my neighbors children to create Bloodblades for the poor and the oppressed. I believed that if I helped them gain weapons, we could create a better life together.” He smiled ruefully. “My hopes of revolution were dashed when the Flens came and Harvested me, making me a servant of the Void.” Everyone stared dumbly at him.

“A servant of the Void.” Vixin said slowly. “Then pardon me for asking, but why do you happen to have white wings and an Aetherblade?” He held up his hands. “I’m quite certain those are the characteristics of a Jod.”

“Allow me to finish, Viceroy.” Draxos said curtly. “I was a good Flen, always obeying Aia, never deviating. I could not deviate, really. The Void snuffs out individual thought too readily for rebellion to occur.” He winced. “Then came my last Harvest.”

“Lord Draxos was the lead Flen on the night of my sister’s death.” Efstany cut in. Draxos nodded.

“Aia had told me that this specifically was my most important trial.” He said, scratching his chin. “He said that I would have an important duty on this Harvest. I didn’t know what it was until Lord Efstany walked into the room.” He chuckled mournfully. “A young man of eighteen, but still so much a child. I looked at him and thought ‘this young pup can do no harm.’ My companions and I had finished with our work. We were about to return to the Void, when something spoke in my mind.

“‘This one is for the Void,’ it said. ‘Take him now.’ I could do little to resist, the compulsion of the voice was so strong. Stronger than the voice of Aia himself. So I took my Bloodblade and stabbed him through the heart, muttering the words that would change him into a Flen instead of killing him.

“When we had returned to the Void, with the boy and the soldier in tow, Aia met us before the walls of the Void.” Draxos paused, looking intently at each of the human members of the party. “You must understand how rare it is for Aia to give himself a physical form. The only time I have ever heard of or seen him do so was this moment.

“He sent my brothers into the Void with the girl, but stopped me as I began to return. ‘Who is this?’ he asked, gesturing to the incubating boy. ‘Another recruit,’ I said, though I was unsure of who this boy was. Aia said nothing in response. He was silent and motionless for very long- long enough for me to grow uncomfortable. ‘My lord?’ I asked. ‘Is everything alright?’”

Draxos shuddered tremendously. “The next thing I remember, I was rising up from a strange pool of white liquid. My Bloodblades had completely disappeared, and they had been replaced by a single Aetherblade. Finally,” He pointed to his back. “There were these.”

“There was a boy of nineteen standing on the ground next to the pool, staring at me with wide eyes.” He continued, looking over at Valanal with an unreadable express. “‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know.’ was my answer. The boy seemed to contemplate it, then he reached out a hand and led me out of the pool. ‘Very well then.’ he said. ‘You are now Vilkanai, and you will live here with me.’”

Valanal nodded with a note of finality. “And that is how Lord Draxos joined the ranks of the Jods, and why I was made the Seat of Jod.”

Draxos bowed his head. “I learned all of this story just now. When Lord Efstany told his story, the memories came flooding back.” He smiled. “And you may call me Vilkanai again. I much prefer it to who I was.” Everyone looked at the Jod in awe. All except one.

A snide voice piped up from down the tunnel. “Well, all of this storytelling is wonderful, but can we get a move on?” Inalla pointed sternly at the dank, smelly path onward. “Killing a Highking is not a leisurely task.”

Gestarin gaped at her. “How did you know…”

Inalla rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, father, it’s as if you didn’t know me.” She began walking again, leading a bewildered group of adults down through the dark underbelly.