Chained By Fear: 2 Page 5

  Slowly the radiance dimmed, and a human body formed in its place.

  Yellow hair. Brown eyes. Boyish face.

  “Hello, Laylah,” Invictus said. “It’s been a long time. I’ve missed you.”

  “Nooooo,” she whimpered. “Please, leave me . . . alone.”

  Invictus smiled. “Do you believe I intend to hurt you?” he said cheerfully. “You’re my little sister. I love you.”

  “You have . . . already . . . hurt me. You have . . . ruined me.”

  Invictus sighed. “What I did wasn’t very nice. Is that what you want to hear? But time heals all. Now both of us are older and wiser. And you’ve become quite beautiful.”

  Laylah covered her naked breasts with her arms. His words awoke a long-suppressed rage. When she screamed at him, her voice echoed in the chamber. “What you did wasn’t very nice? I suppose, in your mind, it was our parents’ fault!”

  Rather than become angry, Invictus chuckled. “No, it wasn’t their fault. At least, not in the way you mean. But they were expendable. You and I are all that matter. The Sun God and the Moon Goddess, brother and sister, king and queen. Don’t you understand? Anyone who stands against us—or between us—will perish. We are beyond reprisal.”

  “You keep saying us. But there is no us. I despise you!”

  Without warning, she rose to her knees and extended her arms, her thirst for revenge fueling her attack. White power spurted from her fingertips, her eyes and her mouth. It blasted upon him like an inferno.

  For what felt like a very long time she bathed him in white flame, howling as she assailed him. Years of accumulated wrath rained down on Invictus’ body. The chamber became as hot as an oven. He stood there, neither resisting nor fleeing.

  When Laylah finally expended her strength, she fell forward. Her fire had consumed the cuffs that restrained her ankles and liquefied a portion of the stone at her feet, filling the chamber with smoke. She waited for it to dissipate, expecting to see Invictus’ charred bones littering the cavern floor.

  But when the smoke cleared, her brother remained standing, unharmed. Even the golden robes he wore had not been damaged. He smiled at her, full of amusement rather than anger.

  “Laylah, I’m so proud of you. Few beings on Triken are capable of exerting such force, and you did it all by yourself without the benefit of training or any kind of weapon other than your own beautiful body. You’re a courageous girl with great potential. I have so much to teach you. One day, you will find a way to comprehend me, to forgive me, to love me—as deeply as I love you.”

  “Never . . . never!”

  “Darling sister. Never is a very long time. And starting now, you and I have all the time in the world.”

  The sorcerer approached her and touched the top of her head with the palm of his right hand. A warm yellow light enveloped her flesh, causing her to collapse into a state of catatonia—but not so deep that she wasn’t aware when a pair of dracools entered the room, wrapped her in golden blankets and carried her from the chamber. And not so deep that she wasn’t aware when the dracools leapt off the mountaintop with her strapped to one of their backs.

  8

  Upon awakening, the first thing Laylah noticed was the pervasive aroma of incense. She opened her eyes and turned her head from side to side, coming to realize she was lying on her back on a wide bed. Her hair had been washed and combed, and it was strewn delicately on each side of a pillow. A sleeveless samite robe covered her otherwise naked body. Silk sheets caressed her bare arms.

  Laylah sat up and gasped. A dozen yellow-haired attendants—all females—dropped to their knees in reaction to her sudden movement. Then they pressed their noses against the floor. They wore long, white tunics embroidered with golden suns. When they finished their bow and looked up, Laylah noticed their matching brown eyes.

  She was in a large room with just one window and one door. But it was opulently decorated. Gold and ivory inlays wove through the oaken furniture. A polished silver mirror perched enticingly on a dressing table. A marble bath built into the cement floor appeared well-equipped with soaps, perfumes and towels.

  As if answering a silent summons, one of the attendants scampered from the room. As she departed, another woman entered whose appearance was in stark contrast to the others, her hair and eyes black. Laylah could not guess her age.

  “Good morning, young princess,” the woman said. “My name is Urbana, mistress of the robes, and I am under your command. These others are the ladies of the bedchamber. They’re under my command and are not worthy of speaking directly to you. I hope our accommodations meet with your approval. I saw to it that you were bathed and adorned in fine robes. Doesn’t she look magnificent, everyone?”

  “Yes!” the others chanted in unison.

  Through the window, Laylah saw a cloudless sky.

  “Where am I?” she said to Urbana.

  “You’re in the palace of King Invictus, in the Golden City of Avici,” the mistress of the robes said.

  Palace? King Invictus? Golden City of Avici?

  Laylah slid off the bed and walked to the window. Urbana followed alongside, as if Laylah were a delicate thing requiring assistance. Laylah peered out the arched window and saw that she was high above the ground in some kind of tower built into a corner of the palace. She recognized the valley that had once contained her quiet village and could even see the sycamore tree with her precious swing only a few hundred paces away. The valley was green and untouched. But the dead volcano that once held a few scattered huts now bore buildings, temples and multi-storied manses. Where a few once roamed, thousands now bustled in the streets.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” said a deep voice from behind.

  “Yes!” the attendants chanted.

  “And it’s only the beginning,” the voice said. “The best is yet to come.”

  “YES!”

  Laylah whirled around. Her brother stood in the center of the room, wearing a gold tunic over a white doublet. A strange heat emanated from his eyes. Laylah felt as if she were standing too close to a fire, but when she tried to back away, she banged into the wall behind her.

  “Forgive my intrusion, but your door was ajar, and I deigned to enter without an invitation,” Invictus said. “I see you’re enjoying the view. I’ve accomplished much in the eight years since you and I were last together, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Laylah’s lips trembled. “You’ve . . . accomplished nothing. You’ve . . . ruined everything.”

  Her audacity obviously shocked the attendants, who skittered backward like a swarm of spiders. Urbana hissed. But Laylah seemed incapable of angering Invictus. Rather than lash out at her, he laughed.

  “Little one, can it be you are still angry with me? Oh well, it won’t last forever. Once you get to know me—really get to know me—you will comprehend my motives and behaviors. In the meantime, I give you free rein to explore your new home. If you like, you can even visit the tree. I’ve left the swing in place, just for you. No one else is allowed to use it, under penalty of death.” He laughed again. “By the way, don’t be late for the banquet. We’re preparing a feast in your honor. There are people I’d like you to meet. I have many friends.”

  Then Invictus strode through the doorway and vanished. After he was gone, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. The attendants resumed their duties. Laylah threw herself onto the bed.

  “Don’t despair, young princess,” Urbana said. “You’re safe now. King Invictus will protect you.”

  Laylah glared at Urbana. “Did you say protect me? He has destroyed everything—my family, my friends, my people. Protect me?”

  “Wise kings sometimes make unpopular decisions,” said Urbana, her black eyes glistening. “When you get to know your brother better, you will understand what drives him. He knows what is best for all.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. My brother is evil. I despise him.”

  “It seems that way now, young pri
ncess. But you will learn otherwise. I can sense you are hungry; it is affecting your mood. When you’ve finished eating, I will give you a tour of the palace and valley, and then you can have a bath and a nice nap. Afterward, I will comb your hair and pick out a gown for tonight’s festivities. You’re an honored guest—sister to the king.”

  “Why should I trust anything that comes from your mouth? You say you’re under my command. Prove it.”

  “How so?”

  “I command you to answer me. Are you in league with my brother willingly—or as his slave?”

  Urbana shook her head, as if amused by such naivety. “I’m neither willing nor enslaved. I’m a disciple—as are all who dwell in Avici. King Invictus is a god, not a man. Compared to him, we are insignificant. But he loves us, nonetheless. What choice is there but to follow him?”

  “You’re mad. Leave me alone. Get out of here.”

  “As you command, young princess.”

  But before Urbana and the other attendants left the room, one of the girls brought in a tray containing roasted chicken, baked apples, creamed corn, white cheese and crispy wafers. There also was a ewer of spiced wine. She set it all on a table near the window, then backed out of the room with the others, closing the door gently behind her.

  Laylah was blessedly alone.

  Laylah ran to the window. She was far too high to attempt a jump, and the walls of the tower were faced with polished ashlars that were probably too slippery to descend. Frantically she explored the room, looking for any kind of weapon that might aid in her escape, but she found nothing but a wooden hairbrush.

  She went to the door and gently pulled on its handle to test if it was locked. The door swung open, and she peered into the hall. The ladies of the bedchamber knelt on a plush rug on the cement floor. Urbana sat in a padded chair against the far wall.

  “Is there anything we can do for you, young princess?” the mistress of the robes said. “Is the food to your liking? What other comforts might we provide?”

  Laylah slammed the door, retreated to the center of the room, and buried her face in her hands.

  For the first time, she sobbed.

  After what felt like a very long time, Laylah found the strength to stop crying. Then she lay on the bed, lost in her thoughts. How long had it been since Vedana had approached her in the village? And how much time had passed since Invictus had found her in the cave? She remembered being strapped to the back of a black mountain wolf some time in between. But what stood out most was the terrible pain of the talisman that had clung to her throat. Laylah still could hear the demon’s cackles through the cacophony of her own wails.

  Remembering the slaughter of her people reduced her to another fit of sobbing. How could she continue to live after experiencing such horror? Everyone she had ever loved was dead . . . and now she was the prisoner of a madman. This time it took even longer to regain control of her emotions.

  Despite the enormity of her sorrow, Laylah found herself drawn to the tray of food. She had no idea how long it had been since she had eaten. The chicken meat had cooled to room temperature, but it still smelled delicious. As a little girl, she had adored baked apples and creamed corn. And she had eaten barrels of white cheese. How did Invictus know she favored these foods? Even then, he must have been watching her closely. The thought made her shiver.

  But her hunger overcame her despair. A spoon was her only utensil, but the fowl had been cut into bite-sized pieces that she was able to pick up with her fingers, and the apples and corn were wonderful. She ate all the cheese and wafers and drank the entire ewer of wine. The moment after her last sip, she heard a tapping at her door.

  Laylah stared at the entryway, not saying a word, waiting to see if the visitor would enter uninvited. But no one did. She counted thirty breaths before hearing another series of taps, this time more forceful.

  Laylah sighed. “Come in. It’s not like I can do anything to stop you.”

  The door opened, and Urbana peered into the room.

  “You’ll be pleased to learn that, starting now, no one will be permitted to enter your room without your permission,” the mistress of the robes said. “This is by order of King Invictus. I’ll wait outside your door until my services are needed.”

  “Come in,” Laylah said. “I give you permission. Besides, I have more questions.”

  Laylah’s submission seemed to please Urbana the way a nanny is pleased when a wayward child finally chooses to behave.

  “Certainly. But may I call one of my chambermaids to remove the tray?”

  “Too good to do it yourself?”

  “It is not my position to clear away the remains of a meal. But if you order it, I will do so.”

  “Makes no difference to me.”

  “Thank you, young princess,” Urbana said, but there was a chill in her voice.

  The mistress of the robes clapped her hands. A girl darted in and removed the tray. In its place she left a clay bowl containing a steaming towel. Laylah wiped her hands and mouth. As soon as Laylah was finished, another maid raced in and removed the bowl.

  Laylah was unaccustomed to luxuries or preferential treatment. Her life in Avici had been unadorned, her parents poor but comfortable. Her time with the Ropakans had been even simpler. Peace and joy had brought her pleasure, not fancy clothes or accommodations.

  Urbana walked close to Laylah and examined her face. “Your eyes are bloodshot, and the rouge I applied to your cheeks is smeared. I have medicine to whiten your eyes and paints for your face and lips. Will you allow me to enhance your beauty?”

  “Maybe another time. For now I have more questions.”

  “All of which I’ll be pleased to answer. Would you care to walk while we converse? We can go outside and enjoy the fresh air. We can even visit your swing, if you like. King Invictus has told me how much you enjoyed it when you were a child.”

  Laylah’s mind raced. Was it possible they would allow her to walk freely outside of her room? Outside of the palace? If so, how closely would she be watched? Perhaps she could find a way to escape. At least she could explore her options. Remaining shut away in the room and feeling sorry for herself would get her nowhere.

  “I’ll need a veil to protect my face from the sun.”

  The request seemed to please Urbana. When it came to clothing, the mistress of the robes appeared securely in her element. “Yes, young princess. Your closet is full of veils, hats and cauls. And gowns designed to fit your lovely figure, little one.”

  Laylah cringed. “Please don’t call me that. Never call me that.”

  “After tonight, I will call you queen,” Urbana said. “As will all who dwell in Avici.”

  “Queen would be even worse than little one.”

  “The great cannot deny greatness.”

  Laylah ignored the comment. “Find me a veil,” she said, and then added: “Please.”

  “Yes, little . . . errr . . . young princess. It will be as you command.”

  After she was properly attired, Laylah left the room with Urbana at her side. They strode along a torch-lit hallway and started down a winding stair. The ladies of the bedchamber did not follow, remaining seated on the rug by her door.

  Laylah saw no windows or exits until they reached the floor of the tower, where they came upon two doors: one small and plain, the other much larger and adorned with intricate carvings of the phases of the moon.

  “This opens into the interior gardens of the palace,” said Urbana, gesturing toward the fancier door. “Many flowers and plants thrive there that do not otherwise grow in this part of the land. King Invictus has developed special ways to keep them alive. Would you care to see the gardens, young princess?”

  “Where does the other door lead?”

  “To a stone path that extends into the valley. It is well worth the walk. The grass is lush and filled with blooming flowers. I’ve never traveled west of the mountains, but emissaries have told me that the valley of Avici is every bit as beautiful a
s the Green Plains. Would you prefer that door, young princess? Your favorite tree is just a quick stroll from here. King Invictus chose to build near the great sycamore, which is much larger, I imagine, than you will remember.”

  “It has only been eight years. How much could it have grown?”

  “Invictus has nourished the tree, just as he has nourished the city. I’ve been here for just a year, and in that short time Avici has more than doubled in size.”

  Laylah was unimpressed. “I’d prefer the valley over the gardens. Is the door locked?”

  “It’s not locked, nor is the other, but both are guarded—for your protection, of course. King Invictus grows more powerful each day, but he has jealous enemies. Your brother would not want you to be harmed just because of his unpopularity in certain circles.”

  A simple sliding latch held the smaller door in place. Laylah opened it and stepped from the semi-darkness of the stairwell into the blinding light of a summer morning. She covered her eyes and winced. As was often the case when she ventured outside during the day, Laylah became mildly sick to her stomach. It was as if the sun disliked her.

  But Urbana was pleased. She spread her arms and took a deep breath.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? Each time I walk in this valley, I feel as if it’s the first time I’ve ever walked freely beneath the sun. Come, young princess. Let us follow the path into the clearing.”

  “You spoke of guards, but I don’t see them. Where are they hidden?”

  “Do not concern yourself. If there were any trouble, they would make their presence known.”

  Laylah memorized her surroundings. As she faced outward from the tower, the valley was in front of her and to her right, while one of the outer walls of the two-story palace was to her left. The wall was sheathed with cream-gray ashlars interspersed with squares of dark marble, and several arched windows were adorned with molded cornices and monochrome glass. Through one of these windows Laylah could see the interior garden, where visitors wearing gold and white tunics admired the greenery.