SHEY THRUDESH-VO #2
Shey couldn’t argue with that assessment. Tyche was his own unique brand of trouble.
“But,” Tyche paused and held up one finger, “there aren’t a lot of us, and those of us who still exist would like to continue existing for as long as possible.”
Something tightened inside Shey’s chest, and all the awkwardness and sadness he’d felt earlier regarding Rayne burned away under the heat of low-simmering rage.
“No one is going to touch you or another god.” Yesuntei’s death was tragic enough.
He wouldn’t stand by and allow Tyche to suffer the same fate.
Caelan cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you’ve brought urgent news and not just another pile of paperwork for me to sign.”
Rayne flashed the king a tight smile and patted the leather messenger bag resting near his feet. “I’ve done both.”
“The Damardor Dominion is no more.” Eno’s announcement silenced the entire room.
For several seconds, there wasn’t a single coherent thought in Shey’s head. How could the country be no more? In terms of destruction, the fighting had devastated only a few blocks, and he couldn’t recall any of the buildings being leveled. Maybe some wind and flood damage.
“What Eno means is that New Rosanthe exerted its control over the country of Damardor, engulfing it and erasing the border between them. The announcement went out yesterday that the area that was New Rosanthe and Damardor is now to be known as the Federation of Order.” Rayne’s description of events was cold and precise, but it did nothing to get Shey’s brain working again.
“Holy shit.” Adrian exhaled, slumping in his seat. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open as he stared at the floor in front of him.
“There’s also a new chancellor,” Eno continued.
“Not an emperor? I thought New Rosanthe had an emperor,” Drayce demanded.
Rayne frowned. “They’ve ‘elected’ a new chancellor.” His mouth twisted the words into a sneer.
Shey could guess exactly how democratic that election had been. New Rosanthe was an old hand at suppressing the people and stifling their voices.
Caelan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He pressed his extended fingers together and tapped them against his pursed lips before asking, “Who is it? Anyone we’ve been watching?”
Rayne frowned. “His name is Chancellor Rati Feng. He is a longtime politician from one of the richest and oldest families in New Rosanthe. However, I wouldn’t say that he would have made our list of the top ten contenders for the spot of emperor after the death of Naram Suen.
My guess is that there were some big undercurrents we missed for Feng to seize power. ”
Caelan straightened, and his expression grew even blacker. “Not only seize power but to seize Damardor as well.”
Drayce scratched his hair, leaving his short blond locks standing up in one spot. “But wasn’t Damardor under the control of New Rosanthe, anyway?”
“Yes and no,” Rayne murmured. “Technically, yes, Damardor was a principality of New Rosanthe, but they maintained their own government and rule of law so long as it fell in line with the desires of the New Rosanthe emperor. However, this new arrangement dissolves Damardor’s federal government completely, moving all representation and control to Aswa, New Rosanthe’s capital. ”
Eno scrubbed a hand across his face, and for the first time, Shey noted that the man looked exhausted.
Not the kind of exhausted that came from flying on a dragon’s back for most of the night, but that he’d been worn ragged for at least twenty-four hours, if not longer.
Shey glanced at Rayne. While some color had returned to his naturally pale face, the dark circles under his eyes appeared more prominent.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Eno grumbled.
“Chancellor Feng has declared war on Caspagir and the Isle of Stone dragons,” Rayne continued.
Chaos exploded in the room, but Shey was only vaguely aware of it.
He jumped to his feet but froze in place.
What the hell was he going to do? Where was he going to go?
He was thousands of miles away from Sirelis, and the new phone he’d gained while they stopped over in his home had stopped receiving a working signal after a few days at sea.
He had no reliable way to contact his mother or their generals to get an assessment of the situation.
The lingering old magic from the Ordas still messed with all electronic signals.
Shey opened his mouth to ask if Rayne had spoken with Queen Noemi before he left Stormbreak, but the words never left his tongue.
Sudden darkness swamped the entire room as if something had extinguished all the lamps and the sun had fallen from the sky.
A tremor shook the room, almost knocking Shey off his feet.
Breaking stone and snapping wood filled the air.
Cracks grew in the floor. The world was tearing apart.
“Haru!” Adrian shouted.
The dragon in white robes fell to his knees in front of a still-seated Nori and bowed his head low. “This is all my fault. I have forced our people into their first war in millennia. Our people will die because of my carelessness.”
“Haru—” Nori started in a gentle voice.
“Banished!” A second deep voice boomed above Nori’s voice, but it was still the clan leader’s voice, except younger and deeper.
Shey gasped as another Nori stepped out of the swirling miasma that filled the room.
It was Nori, but he looked like a man in his thirties or forties.
His long hair was black with only a few threads of gray, and most of the wrinkles on his face were missing.
But there was a coldness in his eyes that felt grossly out of place.
“You have doomed your clan and all dragons. You are banished to the Chasm, Haru!” Nightmare Nori bellowed.
“No! Please! I can fix this!” Haru pleaded.
Adrian dived in front of Haru, grabbing both of his arms and giving him a shake. “Haru, that isn’t Nori. Not your Nori. It’s not real.”
“Haru, I would never banish you,” Real Nori reassured him in a calm, peaceful tone. “Because you would never do anything to force me to shut you out. You are my precious little sunbeam.”
Shey’s heart squeezed at Nori’s sweet words, but they seemed to make Nightmare Nori angrier.
The fake dragon leader roared and drew a black sword.
He raised it above his head and took a step toward Adrian and Haru.
The dragon didn’t move. His wide, tear-filled eyes remained locked on the monster of his nightmares.
Shey took a step, reaching for a sword at his side only to remember when his hand came up empty that he was unarmed.
Caelan hissed and zipped forward. As he moved, he tossed out his hand, similar to how Adrian conjured a knife, but it was a long silver-white sword that appeared in Caelan’s hand. A bright flash of light beat back the darkness as Nightmare Nori’s sword clashed with Caelan’s, stopping its descent.
Adrian dug his fingers into Haru’s arms and shook him. “Haru! You need to get control! You must protect your clan.”
“Adrian, I—” Haru started, but his voice broke.
“Fuck, this is gonna hurt.” Shey barely heard Tyche’s mumbled words.
The God of Luck darted to Haru and tapped the top of his head. In the blink of an eye, the shadows receded, and Nightmare Nori vanished. At the same time, Tyche fell unconscious, hitting the floor hard.
“Ty!” Shey lunged for the smaller man, falling to his knees.
He pressed his fingers to the side of his neck while a knot blocked his throat.
There was a pulse, but it was weak and uneven.
He didn’t appear to be breathing. Panic gripped Shey by the throat and scrambled his brain.
What could he even do to save the life of a god? “Tyche, wake up!”
Seconds ticked by, and they felt as though they twisted and stretched into hours. Tyche didn’t move, didn’t stir. He wasn’t dead. Couldn’t die. Not like that. Just in a flash.