Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)
Nectar of War: Part 1 – Chapter 2

ROANER KORSANA

XENATHI — QUAMFASI CITADEL

THE HORSES CARRY MORANO and me through the city of Xenathi; we are on one of the main paths to get to the palace—where the meeting is being held to discuss the drastic measures going on in our land, drastic measures that will more than likely reach here.

Rouges: infected beings of our kind that have been taken over body and soul by a disease no one seems to know anything about. Or, as I refer to it, mutation. We have been living in hell for six months. Constantly being on our toes wondering when the next attack will happen—afraid it will be a child or someone of the elderly. Nonetheless, anyone dying of this contagion is a tragedy.

It is amusing how one moment a want-to-be-King is pinching land, and now we need help from those he managed to pilfer. But, of course, his ego would be too impaired to disclose his crimes and then beseech for aid.

Xenathi initially belonged to High King Stravan of Provas, that was until he heard the people of Quamfasi who once ruled lost their Throne. Then, Stravan gave all of the land over to King Vallehes and Queen Penelope; he knew he did not require the ground more than the people who were then homeless.

When this land belonged to Stravan, it had only an unused palace sitting upon thousands of acres of land. It is beautiful how New Quamfasi has made this their home from the ground up. Captivatingly cast with stone of diverse colors, the touch of nature takes over with its green ivy and leaves encompassing the structures bit by bit.

They have made this into more of a home than their prior land was. And that is all those could ask for them after the war.

Morano and I are already receiving mysterious glances as we drift by people and small shops in the city. Our black leather armor and dark blue cloaks reveal that he and I are not from here, a clear indication we are those of Vaigon. Two of the four that Artemis picked.

There are other women and men that watch us on our way through. They are clad in their burgundy leather gear—signifying they are Warriors in the Quamfasi Mandem. The slightest wrong movement from either of us could end with a spear through our chests.

We speak when we finally get through the city’s depths and reach the wooded trail that takes you to the citadel. But we are sure to be careful with our words; we are both aware that we are being watched and heard, although we are now out of the vast city.

“Do you truly believe they will help us?” Morano asks.

I shrug. “It is valuable to inquire; the only way we will know if they will is to ask.”

* * *

Our horses come to a stop at the porticoes, and we are quickly approached by two guards who patrol the entrance gates.

QUAMFASI is engraved in the middle of the iron gate, written in pure white gold, and the immaculate palace view is behind it. In the expanse of the land surrounding the chateau, courtyards sit along either side. From my sight, I witness a father playing with his daughter.

They weave through the pillars, bustling with laughter as they chase one another around the large fountains within the enclosure.

“Thousands,” Morano mutters as he observes the father and daughter. “He took that life from thousands of happily free families.” He exhales slowly, looking away from them, and then his eyes drift to me. “We will need a fucking godsend for Vallehes and Penelope to help us after what Lorsius has done. If I were them, I would have never arranged this meeting. I would have happily let us struggle and die. But, unfortunately, the destruction we are facing in Vaigon is our karma, and we are serving the consequences of Lorsius’s actions.”

There are people who speculate the disease over our land was made by Artemis herself. Yet, we all know she would not put so many lives at stake. She values the quantity of us, as well as the quality.

Numerous feet before us stand two guards outstretching their spears, grasping them at a longitudinal angle. The javelins begin to radiate in a golden hue, and the gates gradually open. The protective shield that once maintained the entrance slowly withers away; it is riveting to hear the energy of such power as we observe the white electricity diminish before us.

As Morano and I enter, the threshold closes, and the shield returns—sheathing the iron and fading as if it was never there. Yet, if someone were to try to break through that gate, they would meet the competition of magic.

“Leave your horses,” one guard starts with a short tone. “Follow us; King Vallehes and Queen Penelope await in the Consultation Room.”

They scarcely make eye contact with us as they speak; this is not out of submission. On the contrary, the lack of eye contact is out of hatred. Little may I know; we could still be holding someone from either of their family’s hostage on our citadel.

As we travel down the hallway to the consultation room, I hear the pounding of heels beating into the shiny stone floors at a hard and steady pace. As the woman appears from around the bend of the hallway, two other women quickly follow behind her in a nervous trail. They give short glances at one another after meeting both my and Morano’s eyes.

“I do not care what Val nor Pen says. I will not be cordial with Vaigosian scum! They may continue with this meeting if they like. I am the Right Hand of this nation, I do as I please, and I say no when I desire. Even if those people were to free my family, the answer has been and will always be no.” The woman storming down the hall is clad in a sheer dark blue dress that slightly catches wind at the speed of her pace. Her golden eyes just barely cast over my own as she passes by. Suddenly, her feet stop and then gradually grow closer. “You,” she shouts.

When I look over my shoulder, the woman that was passing is urgently approaching again. I do not know if I should defend myself or simply take whatever she may do or say.

Her dark brown skin slowly pours out a mist of a sort, moving directly toward me.

Right Hand, I repeat her words in my head . . . this is Esme. She is the woman who can blind you to life itself. Even your own reflection in a mirror. She has the ability to make you not see or sense anything you once were able to for however long she chooses to. She is also one of the most highly educated people on this continent; Esme is of the few who can say they know nearly everything.

“Since you need a favor from us, I need a favor from you.” Smugly, she speaks at me. “Take this message back to Penelope and Vallehes, distort my words however you would like, say it harsher, say it nicer. But you will be very transparent with them that I will not ever say yes to helping you and your bastard nation survive. You could at least have the mere decency to apologize for eradicating the lives of my people before pissing all over our land with your presence. I hope you and your people die in that mutation, eating you all alive limb by limb.” And she means every word as her golden eyes bore into my own. “I expect an answer after I speak to you.” Her anger is thrumming through these halls, and the blinding fog protruding from her could take my vision or blind me to anything at any given moment, and I will be defenseless.

“I will tell them.” I nod stiffly.

Her hard exterior does not shift. “I expected nothing less.”

The longer I look at her, the more I begin to recognize her face. And she identifies mine.

There is nothing but the ground-shaking resonance of war barricading the land Lorsius is aiming to take as his own. Unsettling cries and screams from those who have fallen roar through the sky in breathtaking agony. Around me are multitudes of people fighting off others as they surround the body of their loved one in protection until a healer can ascend to the war field and remove the body.

Laven, Amias, Morano, Hua, and I made a pact that we would not kill during this war. There would be no one we would touch. Laven was who proposed this, he did not say why, but I can imagine it is for the purpose of us not having a hand in the death of innocent people. Neither of us agrees with what is transpiring, but there is an abundance of things in life we do not have control over, and this war is one of them.

So, I stand here. I do nothing. I cannot do anything. I will not do anything.

As I take in the perimeter around me once more, my eyes fall upon a woman standing in the distance. Her stance is unwavering; she holds herself as strong as a tree that the storm can never shake. I heighten my hearing and draw my sight in deeper. Every breath she takes, I can hear it above the harrowing sounds of battle.

Before I see it, I hear it. I recognize that soft drag of an arrow sliding from the archery quiver along her back, tucking into its bow, and then the spiraling turn as it whips through the air moving in a perfect direction for the center of my chest.

I raise my hand, casting a small shield in front of the arrow. As it draws through the shield, it desiccates, disappearing before our eyes.

Her chest rises and falls as the rage in her grows.

This time, I am unprepared. Her spear is drawn, igniting in a glow of silver the moment she touches it. And, within one easy motion, it veers across the vast land between us. You can hear the energy of the unwavering magic soaring through the spear and to my shoulder—propelling directly through me. The force of her spear throws me backward by multiple feet.

As I collide with the ground, it pushes the spear farther through me, forcing an excruciating scream to tear from my chest. I can just barely see through the pain, and just as I think it could not get any worse, the spear is ripped from my shoulder at an angle meant to make the wound worse. Stiffly, I lift my head, and the spear soars from my body and back to her hand. She catches it in a firm grasp and places it along her back. She watches me for mere seconds before ascending.

‘Roaner!’ Hua hollers as she rushes toward me. ‘For fucks sake, I leave you for a moment, and you nearly get yourself killed.’

I do not have the strength to respond before she is hovering over me. Hua grabs my chin and yanks my face in her direction. ‘Who?’

There are no words for me to speak, I can barely see her due to the agony blurring my vision.

‘Who did this to you.’ Each word she speaks comes out sharper than the one before.

I weakly shake my head. ‘I do not know.’

‘Then point!’ She screams.

Finally I can focus and I witness the pink specks in her purple eyes glow in anger.

‘We promised, Hua.’ As I speak, my voice strains at the pain.

She grumbles in response while touching my chest and we ascend to the Healers Tent.

“Pardon my aim,” Esme commences. “That spear I lodged through your shoulder on the battlefield was meant to kill you.”

“My Lady,” one of the meek women at her side speaks. “We must go. You will be late to meet Prince Vorian.” She touches Esme’s arm to prevent her from ripping me apart any further with her words.

Sharply, she turns on her heels and is down the hall with her maids rushing to keep up behind her.

“That is the woman who nearly killed you during the war?” Morano asks as we both watch her recede farther away.

“Yes.”

“I am surprised she missed your heart and only punctured your shoulder,” Morano chuckles. “She does not strike me as the person to miss the opportunity of a killing so easily.”

“Believe me. I thought I was going to die.”

“This way,” the guard leading us to the consultation room shouts in a tone that is just borderline of agitation.

Morano and I follow at once. We have already pissed off their Right Hand; we do not need to do any more damage by pissing off the High King and High Queen with a late arrival.

As we approach a set of double doors, there are no knobs or handles to enter. Instead, the guard touches the sleek tan stone with a hand, and the doors leisurely open to Penelope and Vallehes.

Upon entering the room, the entire ceiling is open to reveal the beauty of the sky. The chamber is large, expansive enough to fit a couple of hundreds of people. Surrounding half of the room is a simple stone railing; in the other half, walls stand firm.

Vallehes and Penelope stand at a large circular table encompassed with a map of their land. You can see the beauty they have bred on this land as you glance behind them. From the health of the ground to the birds that fly through the trees, this was once what my home looked like.

Their eyes meet ours, and Morano and I bow before them in virtuous respect. We bow in their technique, not the technique Lorsius has forced upon us. Each continent has its own respective form of bowing; to not follow it is the utmost disrespect.

Neither Penelope nor Vallehes have changed in appearance; their age- less glamour remains intact. There was blather that they chose to no longer phase into their Wolves and gave up immortality, but I never acknowledged it. If I reflect well, the High King and High Queen I knew would never give up so readily on mending their people and continuing to restore a home for them.

Penelope still maintains her long locks. They are always kept perfectly done, falling around her darkened skin. She is attired in her red leather armor, as Vallehes is donned in formal dark attire.

“Roaner, Morano,” Penelope says, glimpsing us over.

No matter how well we mean, they will always give us an overlook for detection of any weapons we may be bearing.

“Your Right Hand has quite the colorful personality if I do say so myself,” Morano announces as we sit at the circular wooden table.

He is trying to be humorous and amuse them in some manner. I should tell him to shut up before his wit gets us anchored with no help.

“She does, does she not?” Penelope smiles.

Perhaps his comedic charm could conceivably get us somewhere. Vallehes looks at her and then towards us. “What is it that you wished to ask of us?”

Morano stays silent. We both discussed that I would be the one to prepare the deed of what we are looking for aid with.

“Over the course of six months, something strange, dark even, has erupted in Vaigon. A disease—a mutation of some sort has been taking our people. We believe it began with one host, then spread from one to the other. To describe what is happening to them is unearthly. It is as if their soul has been corrupted. After speaking with Laven, he explained that he does not believe this was a disease that just began. This is unnatural. Given that thought, we can only suspect this virus has been made. We do not know the purpose and do not have an inclination to who could have done this, but we do know that our people are dropping at a rate we have never seen.”

Penelope’s eyebrows furrow together as she hears every word and connects them. “What exactly happens to them after they have been in reach of this?”

“Well,” I begin. “It seems to initiate with a bite, a laceration—possibly, but we know it is a wound inflicted upon you to change you. Every individual we executed was bitten and had claw marks someplace on their body.

“Seeing these people in action is like watching a child contain powers; they have no idea what to do with themselves, so they run rampant and inflict harm everywhere they walk and even upon themselves. Their skin can turn, fading to a pale dark grey appearance. Each person mutated all hold the same eye color—an eerie blue nearly the pigment of the whites of their eyes.”

“I would say we could help you, but I do not see it possible.” Vallehes pushes a hand through his light hair, pondering on the correct words to say before continuing.

“We are not only here to ask for help solely for our benefit,” Morano chimes in, so Vallehes needs to think no farther. “We want to forewarn you.”

Nodding in agreement, I presume. “There is only a matter of time before they can navigate their way through the border. That is all you are, a single border away. Whatever may happen to us has the grave potential of happening to you. So this is not only our cry for help but our call of prophecy. We do not hope you will lose more people than you already have over the years.”

Vallehes smiles. “We thank you for your consideration, but there is no requirement to worry for us, nor our polity. I believe we have everything under proper management here at this point.”

“We would never doubt it. We remember the leaders you were to us, and it does not go forgotten.” Morano nods his head in admiration. Out of us all, Morano praised the Queen and King more than anyone my brothers and I knew.

Penelope looks toward Vallehes, and I can tell they are communicating with one another through their bond, the mating linkage. She nods, standing from the table. “I must go to our General; she is calling upon one of us. But I know there is more Val may wish to speak with you on that he will fill me in on later. It was lovely to see you two.”

Before we can repay our respects to her, she ascends from the room, leaving behind a white hue that glides upward and out through the open ceiling.

“We have our land under control, yes,” Vallehes proceeds. “Nevertheless, we will keep our eyes open and our Warriors and people on guard. You are correct that we are only one wall away, and anything happening to you is undoubtedly prone to happen here. Yet, there is nothing I can offer you until I witness what you speak of firsthand. Until then, I thank you for your warning.”

“Well, there is one more thing,” I inform.

I can see Morano’s head turning to me from the corner of my eye. His perplexed glance at me prompts Vallehes to shift his eyes between us.

I turn to Morano. “Wait outside,” I privately tell him.

“What are you about to ask him?” He demands to know.

“I will tell you,” I falsely promise. “Leave before he begins to suspect, and you eradicate my plan.”

“There is something I need to ask of you for myself and not as a person of Vaigon.”

Vallehes raises a single eyebrow and waits for me to continue.

Morano finally stands and saunters out of the room.

Vallehes still awaits.

“A little over five years ago, Levora Arvenaldi went missing, just before the grace of Spring. We did not know how. One moment she was there; the next, she was gone. Laven and I scoured for months after we uncovered where her scent stopped. We were aware that there had to be another trail of where she was taken to, but there was nothing. Her scent stops directly in one placement and carries no farther than where it is. The only possibility I can surmise is that someone disguised her smell. Yet, I am half Sorcerer, and I have the ability to remove any mask someone may have put over a scent to uncover their trail, but there is nothing. She ends entirely in one place.”

Vallehes stands. “And, who is this woman to you?” He questions as he walks across the room to the shelves of books.

“My vosalis*.” The words move effortlessly from my mouth.

It is what she would be right at this moment and what she will be when I bring her home.

“Not your mate?” Vallehes comes to a stop as he glances over at me.

“Deeper than that.”

He nods, and his arms cross as his eyes meet mine. “I will help you with this,” he sits across from me. “Though, we will bargain.”

I nod, knowing there would be something in return that he would seek. There will invariably be a bargain for whatever a person wishes for while simultaneously fulfilling the other’s wants and needs.

“I assist you in your discovery of Levora’s whereabouts, and you will assist me.” His hand makes a small motion, and a contract appears on the table before me. “I need to discover the placement of someone, and then, you will arrange their execution.”

“Who am I to replace?” I simply ask.

Vallehes grins and a quill and ink develops in his hand as he walks toward me. “You will be rather fascinated by whom I need you to locate.” Before I say another word, I am signing my name.

VAIGON CITADEL

“You called upon me?” Heshy, my Auxiliary, asks as he enters my study.

“I did, come in,” I motion for him to enter from the doorway, and he sits in one of the black leather chairs near my bureau. “I have something that needs to be done and it will stay between us and whoever we replace to complete what I need done.”

Heshy nods. “Name the person and I can replace them.”

“There is one, his name is Ezra Harst, he is a messenger that knows Voschantai Universe almost as well as us. I believe he can complete the assignment, but I need to meet with him first, question him and be certain of it. This task is no easy task to undertake given who is behind it and what must be done.”

Heshy stands and fixes his cloak. “Ezra Harst you say?”

I nod. “Can you replace him before the end of a fortnight?”

Heshy smiles. “I can replace him before tonights end.”

* Old Quamfasian: Vosalis Translation: Wife