Queen Demon (The Rising World #2)

The Past The Spark

It is believed that the name “Rising World” was bestowed on the first formal meeting of the coalition in Benais-arik, but the true first meeting, to be pedantic, actually took place in the Hierarchs’ Summer Halls, which was rapidly filling with water at the time …

The truth as always is more complicated.

Alliance war councils sprung up in many places, sparked by the Hierarchs’ defeat at the Summer Halls and the return of the hostages.

These councils eventually coalesced around the strong Enalin-Arike force to the northeast with what was left of the population of the Arkai, the Sana-sarcofa, and the growing unified resistance in Palm and Belith, allied with the Grale and Ilver, and other survivors of the southern region and the western coast …

“Rising World” is a mistranslation of a term for “cooperation among many/all” originating in the mountainous western Borderlands (or the Witchlands, as they were called in the east) carried by survivors of the Hierarchs’ attacks as they moved east to join the war …

—The History of the Hierarch War: Volume Four: Gathering the Storm of Victory by An Interested Yet Unbiased Party

The sun was high and bright when Kai rode into Benais-arik in Bashasa’s wake, their cadres on horseback around them.

Kai was dressed in embroidered silk with only a few bloodstains on it, disguised as one of the Hierarch servant-nobles who had followed the usurper Karanis to the Kagala Fort.

Bashasa wore Karanis’ elaborately decorated coat and the rest of the cadre had taken up the clothes of the usurper’s entourage.

The large body of Arike soldiers with them came as themselves; they were the garrison conscripts that Karanis had brought with him.

Fortunately the sun was a good excuse for the broad-brimmed silk hats that the entourage wore.

It was hard to make out the all-black of Kai’s eyes from a distance, but he kept his hat tilted down, and his dark curling hair was tied and stuffed up under it.

Talamines’ borrowed skin prickled with nerves and he didn’t trust himself to control his expression.

The city outskirts were sporadic copses of trees, clusters of houses—or ruins where houses had stood—and farm fields and gardens.

The people working there were all Arike who kept their own heads down or looked nervously askance at the large party of soldiers.

Benais-arik had no wall to protect it, apparently having never needed one before the Hierarchs.

The legionaries could have built one of their earthworks around it, encased it in dirt and rock like they had the Summer Halls, but either they didn’t value it enough or hadn’t thought there was any chance of an attack.

They would think differently now.

Bashasa led the way down a broad stone-paved road and through the city gate, which was more a symbolic barrier than a strategic one.

It stood alone across the road, four tall columns wreathed with carved flowers and vines, crowned by multiple pointed arches.

It had been brightly painted once, the colors now faded and weathered.

The legionaries who guarded it didn’t salute or acknowledge “Karanis’” passing.

The avenue beyond the gate was broad too, lined with rambling buildings of stone or sandy brick with tile rooftops, some with low walls protecting garden courts, a few two or three stories tall with balconies.

It was oddly quiet and they saw more bored legionaries than ordinary people.

Narrow alleys allowed passage between some of the structures, but the tension didn’t ease out of Kai’s shoulders until they passed the first sizable cross street; it had felt too much like being herded into a canyon to be trapped.

As the avenue widened further, the carving and paint on the houses was richer, there were more balconies and unshuttered windows, and bright-colored awnings shaded walkways for passersby.

They only saw a few legionaries who seemed to be guarding particular houses, probably those where Hierarch functionaries or Arike traitors lived.

Kai had seen a map of the city but he wasn’t sure how far they were from the plaza where they meant to meet the others.

Disguised as merchants and laborers, Prince-heir Hiranan should be leading her cadre in from the south as Lahshar led hers in from the west canal-side, the other Prince-heirs and their soldiers split between them.

There were two different prisons for Arike dissenters in the city and each group would make for the nearest, ready to liberate it as soon as they saw Bashasa’s signal.

Kai wanted to lean over to ask Salatel, who rode next to him, how far they had to go, but it might risk betraying their deception.

Others in the disguised cadres spoke casually among themselves, probably to take attention away from those like Kai who were not good at acting and were knotted up with pre-battle tension.

He was terrified someone would strike at Bashasa while he was out of reach, but everyone had been very clear on the fact that there was no way Karanis and a Hierarch servant-noble would share a horse.

Speaking in Imperial, a voice called out, “Stop!”

Kai clenched his jaw to keep from swearing aloud; this was his worst nightmare about to happen.

Bashasa reined in and his cadre leader Arava held up a hand to signal the rest of the troop.

Kai didn’t look back to see if there was any disorder as the group halted.

Bashasa kept his hat tilted down. Kai hadn’t had a close look at Karanis until after he was a blood-soaked corpse, but Bashasa was about the same size, broad-shouldered with dark curling hair and warm brown skin.

But they didn’t look at all alike in the face.

A person, a man in an elaborate white and gold Arike coat and skirt, strode from the covered walkway toward Bashasa.

A server hurried to keep pace just behind him, holding a sun shade over his head, and he was followed by four legionaries and a trailing group of well-dressed people.

Kai threw a worried glance at Salatel, who grimaced under the brim of her hat.

This was obviously some kind of high official, to be shouting an order at the man he thought was Karanis, the Hierarch-anointed ruler of the city-state of Benais-arik, in public of all places.

And the man didn’t look Arike, with skin pale and reddened from the sun, his hair light brown and straight.

Which Kai had learned didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t Arike, but it was a more common look for the archipelagoes or the South.

Where so many of the Hierarch servant-nobles came from.

The man stopped a few steps from Bashasa’s horse and said, “Where are you going, Karanis?” He sounded confident and amused. “To the palace? You should report to the garrison commander. You know what will happen if you haven’t dealt with that escaped dross.”

Dross was what the legionaries called the Arike and the other eastern peoples. From the low noise Salatel made in her throat, it was clearly worse than it sounded.

Her head lowered, Arava said, “Great One, you are correct, but Prince-heir Karanis has something he must attend to first. He will—”

“Answer me, Karanis!” the man snapped.

Everything went still, even the breeze dropping away, and the silence of the watching mortals sank into Kai’s bones.

He felt the breath huff out of his lungs, and one of the horses nearby stamped.

There had been so many times where everything could go wrong, where their world could end, where the one painful pitiful spark of hope would die, but those other moments had all gone by so fast they were hard to recall clearly.

This one seemed to hang in the air, dangling all of them over the edge of a cliff for an eternity.

“Ah, well.” Bashasa lifted his head slowly and tipped his hat back. He said pleasantly, “I suppose we should start now, as we mean to go on.”

The man stared. “Who are you?”

The server dropped the sunshade. She backed away, incredulous, and said, “Prince-heir…”

“Run,” Bashasa told her, and drew his sword.

She bolted. Others on the street scattered and ran. The Hierarch servant-noble stepped back but Kai saw the flash of a blade as Bashasa’s sword sliced the air. The man fell.

Arava shouted a command and the soldiers behind them roared their reply. Kai snarled in relief and surged forward with the others. He caught a glimpse of the servant-noble on the ground as the clawed feet of his horse pounded over him.

The streets blurred past as Kai concentrated on staying close behind Bashasa.

The Arike were almost as good riders as the Saredi and their aggressive horses were fast and nimble.

They broke formation for an abandoned cart and dodged to avoid fleeing mortals.

A legionary appeared out of nowhere and raised a spear at Salatel.

Her horse swerved away and Kai’s beast lunged in and crunched the man’s shoulder in its fangs before Kai could even reach for him.

They left the crumpled body behind and raced onward.

Loud pops from somewhere nearby told Kai the signals were going off.

The archers among the conscripts were firing arrows with burning firepowder sticks into the air.

High overhead, the sticks exploded in bursts of light and noise.

Hopefully Hiranan and Lahshar and the others would see them, but now that the action had started Kai felt all worries slip away.

If they fell, they would fall fighting, and that was all he could ask.

Around the next corner they plunged into more legionaries gathered to block the way and suddenly the fighting was all around.

Kai speared two through their helmets, staying in the circle of riders around Bashasa.

Someone shouted in alarm and barely paces away a soldier went down with an arrow in her chest.