The King Trials 2: Beyond.

“Why?”

Arms tightly crossed against my chest, abrasive to the chill. My long coat fastened up to the last button. The boat trembles haphazardly, as if shuddering from the cold—a sudden sway forces me a step forward.

“Please, just take me to him.”

Reinsbure’s hand rested on the pommel. After a begrudging second, he nods, a reluctant accord. We move from the main deck towards the warren of sleeping quarters. My gaze does a brief peruse of what stirs beyond. The darkening skies forebode destruction, the louring clouds like a thick shroud, overcast with the shadows of distant high cliffs, crags of jagged rock jutting out from the surface.

The swishing waves; a dismal grey buffets the flanks of the ship.

“A storm brewing,” Reinsbure says thoughtfully. He rotates his face from right to left like his head is on a swivel. “She’s angry.”

“Who is she?”

“Azura, the Goddess of the waters and the seas. The lore of her belief is founded on a myriad of conjectures, but only one thing is certain. In the womb is where her wrath grows, and she births only chaos. Every ship to sail faces the peril of being a casualty of her volatile fury.”

Suddenly the wind whips up over the deck, clouds swirl dauntingly overhead, blotting out all light. The ship bucks and rocks beneath as the sea turns choppy.

Reinsbure and enter the gloomy corridor.

“And what is the cause of her anger?”

“A broken-heart.” He peeks a glance at me. “Nothing is more ferocious than a woman scorned. It was told that her lover used her for her power, so she slew him and plunged his soul to depths of the ocean itself. Now every ship that sails, exploiting her as a means of travel faces that same probable fate.”

I glare at the back of his head. “Because of course something as unpredictable as nature would be a euphemism for the volatility of a woman’s emotions. And what does the lore say on how to appease her?”

“A surrender.” At the end of the passageway, a bulky Avangard soldier stands posted at the last door. “The only thing that pleases her is a tribute of death.”

“Well, it seems we all cannot get what we want. I suppose she will have to remain bitter and angry.”

As we approach, the soldier halts us with his hand held out. “I have strict instructions from the Primus to not let anyone disturb him.”

Reinsbure nods his head at me. “She is not anyone.” The soldier glowers at me then his eyes soften by a molecule. “I will resume your post. Go do a sweep of the deck and be sure to take your time.”

The soldier remains rooted where he stands.

“That’s an order,” Reinsbure says with a raised voice, all hints of good-naturedness drained from his tone.

“And I have orders from the Primus,” he says with matched sternness.

Reinsbure grumbles gruffly. He clasps his hands behind his back. “Should I or do you want to be the one to tell him you denied her—” he exaggeratedly throws a look at me, “—entry when she requested?”

He falters for a millisecond but upholds his fixity of purpose. “And why should the Primus care?”

The door behind him swings open and Kelan looms at his rear. “Because I do.”

The soldier whirls around. He and Reinsbure bow their heads to him in unison.

“Bartholomew, Reinsbure, you are both dismissed.”

“Primus,” they say simultaneously. Together they stalk off down the corridor.

Kelan meets my gaze, his face still, but his eyes bear a tumult of unavowed grievances. He steps aside and holds the door open for me, a silent invitation. I saunter inside the windowless room and my eyes drift to the single bed perfectly made with a collection of his belongings and his suit of armour neatly gathered at the foot. But what beckons for my attention is the small table in the corner strewn with different atlases scribbled with personal writing and notes.

He closes the door behind him.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” Semi-apologetic.

“Aurora.” Flutters ripple in my chest at the swoon worthy sound of my name on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

He brushes past me and hauls out the chair; he flips it around and settles on it.

I turn slowly to face him. “Taking a leap of faith.”

He crosses his arms, muscles protuberant through the sleeves of his burgundy garment like it cannot contain them.

His eyes narrow, tiny folds forming around the edges. “Am I the leap?”

“You are what I have faith in.” I start to unfasten my long coat. “All great things worth having require great sacrifice worth giving.”

His eyes reach full capacity, trained on my working hands. “Aurora.” His voice grows rough, arousal ignites something new and bright in his gaze. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever you keep from me is because you do not trust me.” Over halfway. “You do not trust that whatever it is, I would still care for you despite it. Well, here’s my chance to see how you will see me despite my truths.”

I slide out the coat and move gradually to lay it on his bed carefully.

I then roll up the sleeves of the blouse beneath my leather corsage. “I am going to tell you a secret of mine, a secret that has secrets within its secret.” After, I begin to unravel the bindings on each forearm. “A secret that has become too burdensome to carry on my own.”

Kelan observes me with mute attentivity.

“I never told you, not because I did not trust you. I never told you because I did not trust myself. I was advised against letting anyone know.”

His eyes lower to my arms and they do a quick expand and contract.

I toss the bindings on his bed and I showcase the markings to him.

He rises to his feet. His eyes locked on the tattoos, they venture with them, his eyes glide through the controlled bands that twist around my arm from the elbows, runic symbols crammed within its borders until my wrists.

He nears me and grasps one limb. I drop the other. Wordlessly, he studies the tattoos with his other hand, his skin presses unto my own and his palm scans through them, exploring, heat floods the trail of his touch like fire’s tongue licks the length of my forearm.

I grapple for my calm, suppressing shivers.

It seems the natural luminescence of the tattoos shimmers ever so slightly at where his large hand inspects, a delicate gleam of bliss.

He lifts up my hand to examine the ringed symbol on my palm. His head slants to the side and he raises his own hand to flatten it against mine. I nearly gasp at the unequal symmetry, the way our hands perfectly fit the other like puzzle pieces. He concludes by entwining our fingers.

“What are these marking?” he whispers, a meld of awe and perplexation. “You did not have them before.”

Gathering sheer strength, I untangle my hand from his. “My truth. A fraction of it. I myself do not know it all, only some. I just—I do not even know where to begin.”

He nods pensively. Then he gestures at the bed, motioning for me to sit.

I move and glance backwards before I seat myself on the edge.

Kelan takes up the chair and plants it right in front of me. He plops down, his knees knocking against mine.

“A good place to start is from the beginning.”

I sniff sharply. After a moment of fearful hesitance. I tell him everything. Most things. The entire thing, all except Rimnick. I admit to every ordeal I experienced since Sorcia, expounding on the mystery sickness that it isn’t quite a sickness but the source of the malignancy, one that Zoar managed to suppress within me until I unearth a more permeant remedy against it.

I appraise him of the legend of the Sagetai and what I learnt during that side expedition at the Sanctuary, the oracle about the return of the Ulris and the ploy to breach a rift between our world and the hellscapes. I even mention my peculiar encounters with the Hitsches—particularly Anthia. I inform him of the divine, all-knowing voice that only I can hear, the one that led me to find a fragment of the truth. The bizarre occurrence at Velheim and the sapient conversation with the Kumentah.

At the culmination of my fact-telling that teeters to angst-ridden ranting, anxious speculations and divulging throat-tightening fears. My own emotions unbridling, I blink back a deluge, wresting myself under control.

Kelan coolly nods his head, stone-faced.

He takes a prolonged moment to respond.

A moment stretches into a glimpse of eternity. He says, “This is…much to process… especially in such a short amount of time.”

I give him a ‘you wouldn’t say’ look.

“My mind is wildly hopping from one question to the next.” His arms shift, one elbow is propped on his wrist so that he can lift his arm, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. His eyes clamped shut.

“Though any of this makes little sense. At all. It somehow… rationalises things about you that do not make sense.” His hand falls to his lap, his legs widely spread.

“The Kumentah, the ruler of Velheim, promised you his forces?” Ridicule leaks into his tone. “Solely on the credence that you are this… predestined saviour meant to vanquish the army of darkness?”

Well, when you put it like that….

I drop my head for a second, severing eye contact. “I am not—I am no-one’s saviour.”

“Alright. Then why did he not announce his intentions or have the Ecclesia relay his verdict?”

“For the same reason I did not tell you the moment I found out.” I refasten our gaze. “No-one is to know of the Sagetai’s existence; a coming that apparently has been long foretold—now forgotten.”

He makes a disagreeing sound, his face contemptuous. “It cannot be. Something as substantial as this should have been documented in the celestial almanac. Ephemeris. A prophecy of this ambit should have been glorified throughout the ages, sung in songs, regaled in tales. So why has no-one heard of it?”

I chuck up my hands and allow them to clap loudly against my thighs. “I do not know. Do you think I want this to be true? I saw the truth when I merged with the Sarsen—I felt the power awaken within me. I witnessed the truth at the Sagetai Sanctuary and the same truth—” I thrust my forearm in his face before I drop it back down, “—is forever etched on my flesh.”

He quickly exposes his palm to me placatingly. “I do not doubt your words. I am merely deliberating, I wish to understand what all this means, and all that we are yet to find out.”

That makes two of us.

I inhale a soothing breath and exhale my aggravation.

“This oracle… where is it?”

My eyes constrict into a line. “Safe. Why?”

“Perhaps I can help you interpret it.”

I respond with a dubious look, smiling wryly. “Yes, because you are both a Primus and master in ancient prophecy deciphering.”

He scolds me with a mute reproach.

I sigh, shoulders slumping. “It can only be read in sunlight. The current weather has the sun eclipsed. So no prophecy reading for today.”

Kelan moves on, giving chase to his thoughts and queries. “Zoar and the Kumentah shared the same counsel of keeping you a secret, because not a sickness but a malignancy weakens you?”

I nod stiffly.

“What do you think could be the cause? Because it did not just happen, you were… infected somehow. This malignancy smells of sorcery, and the Ulris can only do a malevolence of this magnitude. I assume it cannot be easy to weaken a Sagetai.”

I shrug dejectedly. “That is impossible. We never even encountered—”

The harrowing realisation strikes with an explosion of thunder.

“The Vulkra.” The words as silent as my breaths.

Kelan’s nods multiply with quiet confidence. “We did encounter them. That ambush on our way to Cistern… I knew there was something peculiar about it. Ulris proxies are not easily slain, but those fell at our blades too swiftly. The candidates were never the target.”

I shake my head vigorously. “That is insinuating that they know the Sagetai has arisen. And that I hold its identity. The Sagetai is the only thing that stands between the Ulris and its ambition of world domination. If he knew that I—it lives, he would have surely sent a lot more reinforcements and firepower than that. He would know that I am vulnerable, still to master my power. Why poison me if he could just send someone capable to kill me?”

He nods unwillingly at the plausible point.

He looks back at me, an emotion flashes in his eyes too quick to capture. “Tell me about your Regnum?”

“Why?” I ask, trying to pursue him on his path of thought.

“You told me that the Ulris was single-handedly responsible for uprooting your family tree. How?”

I brush aside the pang in my chest.

“A Regnum is the birthplace of a noble’s ancestry. With our holdings comes our estates, ones across our Province, some even scattered across Urium. Each one home to a Valwa. I had kin of old age, ones of both distant and close relation. But now those very same estates sit vacant, tended by servants.”

Silence ensues the cacophony of pandemonium outside, the clangourous thunder bellowing outside, the waves jostling the ship at every chance. Kelan steadies himself on his seat.

“During Pavelia, the Ulris used their time well, optimising the death toll not only in the battlefields but by flooding the halls of Valwa estates with blood,” I say acidly. “Father never dwelled on the topic.”

Kelan furrows his brows. “During Pavelia, Vilnus sent additional forces to kill members of your Regnum? Why in Urus’s name would he do that?”

“All I know is that by the time the rift was closed, they were gone. So were the lives of every Valwa. Many, but not all. Their slight failure safeguarded the lives of my father and his parents.”

“But that does not make any sense,” he says, thinking out loud, frustration pinching the corners of his face.

“They sought to spill every drop of Valwa blood, and I cannot understand why they wished to end my line. My Regnum is the most pacifist of all that holds no real threat, our only weapon is the one in our mind. Knowledge.”

Knowledge. True power… or the path to it.

I glance down at my hands, elongating my fingers to look at my palms.

A frown strikes my forehead. “Their attack was tactical, but their approach was…fearful. They nearly eradicated the name of Valwa as if we were a dire threat. As if—”

“They were looking to prevent something,” he says with cold certainty. A look of raw horror flits across his face. He masks it behind a brooding expression. “I do not think they were looking to end your line, but to prevent one Valwa that was destined to be born into your Regnum.”

The talons of dread dig into my gut. “You are saying that—”

“They were looking for you. But you were not born yet,” he says regretfully, his eyes offering empathy. “You said it yourself. The legend of the Sagetai was long foretold. The Are knew, the Kumentah knew, but who else knew? If they heard, presumably so did the Ulris. And somehow—” He gulps hard, struggling to swallow. “Vilnus must have learnt that the Sagetai will be born into Regnum Valwa, but most importantly. He just did not know of the time.”

The sound of creaking wood swells as the tides furies, brutally shoving the boat at every whim of anger. The sounds becoming too difficult to ignore and more strenuous to remain still.

I can feel the veins in my temples throbbing. “So he slaughtered my entire family… because of me. A way to ensure that the Sagetai would never be born, and so his ambition would not be opposed by anyone with the true might to stop him.”

“And what of your father?”

“What of him?” I ask with innate defence; I reduce the harshness in my tenor.

“Is it possible that he could have known? Consider your upbringing; combat training in sword skill, archery and bo staff is not typically the recommended education for highborn Heras.”

“Only him and not other Valwas?” I contest. “Why would he keep that from me?” I shake my head in veiled denial. “Be that as it may, how would he have come to know? I had to leave Urium to discover a morsel of truth—”

It clicks.

“He did,” I answer for myself. “It must have been.”

“Who?” Kelan questions.

I tap my temple.

Kelan’s stern expressions wanes into scepticism. “The mysterious voice in your head?”

I frown at the undeclared doubt. “The same, all-knowing voice that informed me that Umtera was set ablaze, the same one that warned me of the Xelem, and led the Are to rescue us when they attacked. That is why Zoar was there, he was led by the same voice guiding me.”

His face is still cynical, but he listens regardless.

“What if, He, whoever it is told my father—and only him that the Sagetai was going to be born into Regnum Valwa? And unlike Vilnus, he knew the exact time because he was told so.”

I plough both hands through my hair, and I allow them to remain entangled inside my unkempt locks. “My father preached on about the significance of blood-bound duty. I implied that it was a mere responsibility for my Regnum and to ensure its legacy prevails. But it seems it was not just a duty to one Regnum or one people. Without me knowing, he was alluding to the duty of the Sagetai.”

“He was trying to protect you,” he says with calm certitude. “You were not ready then to hear the truth at such a tender age. Hearing this now, and even I have trouble believing—comprehending the enormity of this… revelation. How much more a child, his own daughter?”

“If he knew or not, I do not resent him.” I rip out my hands free and stare back at him—unable to hold his gaze, I stare distractedly into his lap. “I resent the Sagetai. This myth that I have never even heard of, it struck enough fear in Vilnus to have my entire lineage exterminated like vermin. The cause of our loss.”

Kelan reaches for me but decides against it. He restrains himself by folding his arms; he leans forward. “You refer to the Sagetai like it is someone else. This… Sagetai is you.”

“I know that,” I spit out.

“Though, I can sense you wish to understand all of this. You do not accept it.”

“Why would I?” I snap to my feet and move away from him, feeling colder. “Before I breathed my first, the blood of my kin was already on my hands, and those of others. For a being who is destined to save, all I have done is condemned people, their fates sealed because of their ties to me. I am afraid, I fear beyond reason of who may be next, and whose blood will be shed because of the Sagetai.”

Kelan’s hand extends to me and my body draws towards him on its own volition.

Abruptly a massive force hits the ship, wrenching us apart, and I crash into the wall. Kelan blazes forward and aids me to my feet.

A nerve-wracking shriek rents the air, echoing with the booms of ear-splitting thunder. Subsequently, a horn blares out, sounding an alarm. Kelan interlaces his fingers with mine and we both exit the room. We hurry down the moving corridor, which rolls aggressively from side to side as I fumble behind him, his grip like an anchor of stability.

Many begin to burst out of cabin doors, a few of the Herems make their appearance. We all stagger outside to witness a rampant storm, seething and wild, threatening to tear the ship asunder. A bolt of lightning slices the torso of the sky, unleashing a deafening scream of thunder.

Rain hails down from above, dousing the deck with icy rain.

A barrage of water breaks over the quarterdeck—drenching me, the water hits like a frosty battering ram, but in the midst of a wrathful storm Kelan keeps me balanced, strong.

A panicked scream alerts us both that someone else lacked that stability.

Kelan breaks away from me to help Duce Merian, who is clutching on for dear life, dangling over the railing of the quarterdeck. Rain and wind pummel the ship, waves pound against the hull in an attempt to erode its integrity. The waves mount in its brutality, growing only larger as some even dwarf the ship.

An enormous wave invades, spewing a surge of water, inundating crew members below as they sweep across the deck—the ship lurches violently, I slip and my knees smack the floor. The Captain roars his orders whilst the crew sloshes around, seeking to secure cargo. The mast whines ominously as the sails jerks frenetically, getting tangled in the riggings.

A crewmember scales up, levelling with the crow’s nest and scrambling up into the rigging, swinging fearlessly between rope and yardarm, untangling as he soars.

I cautiously rise to my feet as I do—I whip around to glimpse a gargantuan wall of water that crashes down, consuming me completely as I spiral in a tornado of water until my body collides with wood. The ship rises, it tilts up at an ascendant gradient as if trying to sail up the mountainous wave, sending everything tumbling downwards—including me.

I’m carried away by a current, washing me across the deck until my motion is suddenly halted mid-stream. I glance up at a hand seizing my wrist. A crew member. His other arm secured around the foot of a mast. His face contorts with effort as he hoists me up, pulling me towards him, actively going against the surge.

He manages to get me up to him as I tangle all my limbs round the mast. The ship levels as if reaching an oceanic plateau. My forehead knocks against the wood—splintering my distorted vision—a vicious wave rushes at me from my flank, compressing me against it. The waters thaw away and I inhale a sharp breath.

My eyes blurred by the watery haze. Then I notice I’m alone.

I frantically look for the crew member who saved me. Only to find him hanging on the waist of the ship on the other side, at risk of falling into the maw of the ravenous sea. I detach from the mast, abandoning safety and I trudge, wobble and fight against nature itself to reach him, the ruthless attacks of the storm trying to divert me off course but when I finally reach the railing.

He slips and waves topple over him, engulfing him in a heartbeat.

“No!”

Watching in despair. I find that I had flung myself overboard, the churning waters surging towards me. I clash with the artic waters and it feels like it has shattered every bone in my body. A billion blades puncturing me all at once. I rise to the surface to capture several deep breaths of air before I submerge, succumbing to the scant mercy of ocean’s rage.

I dive deeper, salt stings my eyes, the coldness of the water burns so much so it sears through the skin, freezing my crippled bones. I soon notice a flailing form. Rapid lightning flashes illuminates the waters. Muscles scorching, I swim harder and faster until I reach the frenzied sailor. I try to catch the scruff of his uniform, the back of his collar but he’s squirming too much for me to get a good lock on him.

Forcefully, I grab onto him. I heave him up, fluttering my legs as I battle to get us both up to the top. Soon our heads pierce the surface, gasping for breath, stirring in the cauldron of churning waters, waves thrashing unabatingly.

With my arm hooked around his waist, we swim to the flank of the ship where a netting of rope is sprawled across the hull. I fasten my arm round a chord and the sailor does the same.

Lightning rips through the sky, and I swear I can almost feel an ethereal crackle of electricity—my body strums with electric energy, fusing into my muscles.

Exclaiming, the sailor breathlessly offers his gratitude whilst excusing the assumed fact that I could not understand him. But I do. I would smile if not for the waves lashing against us, tendrils of water whipping our faces with every breath, accidentally swallowing bouts of salt water, drying and wetting my mouth all at the same time.

I peer over at him and his eyes are mesmerised by something, as if oblivious of our perilous conundrum. I follow his sight to see it fixed on my exposed forearm; the gold glinting.

His gaze snaps back at me, staring at me wide-eyed.

I slam a quick finger to my lips. He nods his head fervently, squinting, wincing at the constant spray of water. My other hand reunites with the ropes.

Well, it’s not like he will know what they are or what it means.

I look to the heavens and I notice outlines of heads protruding from aboard—sailors that have finally realised that we had gone overboard.

When we were hauled up, I was met with a sopping Kelan on the other side. His Hades-black hair clung to that face which was hand-crafted by God. Even though we were both soaked, dripping ice water. When he engrossed me in his strong embrace, I felt a burst of warmth like I was seated before a burning hearth, flushed with heat that expelled the numbing cold.

It has been a few hours since we passed the storm and emerged unscathed from adversity. Changed into dry clothes, swathed in a heavy blanket, my body refuses to get warm. I sit in the hammock inside the cabin that I share with Solaris and Vince.

Both of them settled on their hammock, each on the other side of the room, both of them watching me closely.

“What were you thinking?” Vince finally breaks the silence, his question genuine curiosity.

I look at him; the answer was evident in my actions.

“It was clear what she was thinking,” Solaris says with unneeded aggression. “It was a matter if what she thought was ill-wise. But I do not have to tell a Valwa about wisdom or lack thereof.”

My gaze bounces between them both. Then I drop my gaze to focus on a random spot on the mouldy, wooden floorboards. A mesh of thick wooden planks packed together.

Solaris groans, vexed. “Will you persist in your obstinance?”

I jab my gaze at him. “What did you want me to do? Let him drown?”

“Oh, I am uncertain,” he says, his voice saturated with worried anger. “Maybe inform another crew member to help him, instead of jumping into a writhing ocean by yourself!”

“You risked your life for a menial, crew member,” Solaris criticises. “For someone you did not even know?”

“Would it have been deemed as brave or would it have won your approval if it were someone of title and of great importance?” I ask him. He evades my gaze. “Or what if it had been you, any of you? I did not save his life; I merely returned the favour when I was a hair’s breadth from being swept into the ocean.”

“That was not what I meant,” Solaris admits under his breath. “I never meant to undermine your heroics.”

“I was not trying to be heroic,” I clarify.

“I regard your actions to be courageous. You did not think—there was no time to. You acted on gut instinct.” Vince lays back at an angle, moving to lounge himself in his hammock. “You may have the mind of a Valwa, but dare I say—you have the spirit of an Ethane.”

He glances at me and we exchange small smiles.

I grip on the blanket as if I can sponge up warmth from it. But the blanket is not what I need.

Solaris scoffs angrily.

“I know you were concerned about her.” Vince crosses his arms behind his head. “But she is the last one that requires concern. She has proved herself time and again that she is more than capable. Unfortunately, not all aboard—or even in this cabin—can be held to such high esteem.”

I watch Solaris’s dagger glare impale him a thousand times in his mind. He runs a quick hand through his luxuriant mane. “Do you know what gnaws at my curiosity? Moments before the storm reached a climax. Our capable Hera came out of the Primus’s quarters hand-in-hand.”

My breathing hitches.

Vince erects, his amiable expression melts, brows colliding into a stormy frown.

“Solaris!”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I’m simply curious.” Childish mischief frolics on his face. “Were you even aware of the storm before the alarm rung or were other sounds too loud?”

Sweltering heat inflames my face.

“Solaris, if you say another word, I will be the one to hurl you overboard,” I threaten and I lean back to let the hammock cradle me in its curled wings.

“You would never,” he states as a legitimate fact.

“And why is that?”

He smiles at me jeeringly “Would you though?”

I close my eyes and shift to nestle myself onto one side. “Keep talking and we will both find out.”

Strange. Even though we endured the ferocity of the vengeful seas.

I feel the true storm is still yet to come.