Chapter 68
Tynan
“Let the manticore speak!” Zogar shouts at Vanora. His deep voice rumbles through the room like an earthquake, and shouts of agreement rise from the assembled crowd.
We all agreed it was best to let the public remain in the temple to witness this initial inquiry. The manticore’s name is Othrix Grymper, but he’s told us he’d prefer to be called Grymper going forward.
Vanora scowls but stops interrupting. She’s still wrapped in the copper chains that inhibit her use of magic, and she looks exhausted, older than she did earlier, as if the copper is also reversing some of the magic that’s kept her perpetually young.
Grymper trembles as he stands facing Zogar, Rosomon and Saxon in the center of the altar. “Thank you for my freedom, Your Majesty.”
“No need for formal titles,” Zogar says. “At this moment, every office and title in the Light is in question.”
“But—” The manticore shakes his head and his mane ripples, looking cleaner and lusher already. One of the workers brought him some food and drink. It’s clear that Vanora was giving him just enough to keep him alive.
“For all we know,” Zogar says, “I should be calling you King of the Manticores.”
“A King ruling over none,” Grymper says softly.
Zogar nods. We’ve yet to determine whether or not the family he mentioned are still alive. I still can’t believe that manticores exist, not to mention some of the other creatures Rosomon told me she saw in the Darkness.
Rosomon sits next to Zogar, and Saxon’s standing behind her. I’ve remained to the side, observing. I’m not yet officially a king. Not until my father’s deposed, whereas Zogar’s royal title is unaffected by this turmoil. He has the authority to lead this inquiry, no matter what he just said.
After the chaos, most of the guards and other workers in the temple immediately began to cooperate. Xendus and Surath, after helping me free the Wives of Othrix, and locking the klericks away in their place, are now searching the temple to see if there are others trapped here.
Zogar claims he has no authority to rule, but he’s leading this first step, of what I’m sure will be many, to right all the wrongs.
“Thank you for your testimony,” Zogar says to the manticore. “Do you have anything else to add regarding your treatment while in captivity?”
Grymper already told us how Vanora bled him daily, draining him at times within an inch of his life. And how she kept his tail shackled and chained.
“What can you tell us regarding the entrapment of the dragons?” Rosomon asks him. “Did Vanora use you to help trick the dragons?”
The manticore casts his gaze down. His trembling increases and he shakes his head.
“You helped her!” Zogar says loudly, and Grymper jumps, shuffling back.
Many in the crowd shuffle back from the altar, too, clearly as afraid of Zogar as they were of what they believed was Othrix.
“He more than helped,” Vanora interjects. “Trapping you behind the veil was his idea.”
Zogar shoots to his feet, looking as if he doesn’t know whether to kill Vanora or Grymper first, but Rosomon takes his hand and his tension visibly dissolves.
Xendus and Surath return to the altar and join Saxon, standing behind Rosomon and Zogar.
“Grymper,” Rosomon says as Zogar retakes his seat. “I’d very much like to hear your side of events.” She glances toward Zogar, and he nods. “Just tell us everything that happened.”
“Vanora is not entirely wrong.” His voice is shaking. “But she’s twisting the truth.” His paws shake and he clasps them together.
“Please continue,” Rosomon says. “No one is seeking vengeance today.” Her gaze flicks toward Zogar. “The most important thing is learning the truth.”
Zogar glances at Rosomon with clear admiration in his eyes.
“I did strike a bargain with a group of basic mages,” Grymper’s gaze flicks toward Vanora. “We shared a mutual resentment of…” he shakes his head then raises his gaze toward Zogar. “We both resented you.”
Zogar shifts in his chair, but Rosomon strokes his palm with her thumb, and he contains his anger.
“What was the source of your resentment?” Rosomon asks. “Forgive me, but I know little of the politics of the superi.”
“I’m ashamed to tell you,” Grymper says.
“Please.” Rosomon approaches the manticore and lays her hand on his shoulder. “Please continue.”
Behind him, his lethal scorpion tail flicks side to side, and every part of me tenses. From what Xendus told me, one intentional strike from that barbed tail and my Rose will be dead.
“You’ve suffered for a very long time,” Rosomon says. “I alone cannot make this decision, but whatever your crimes, you’ve already paid a high price.”
He nods, and his tail drops. Rosomon returns to her seat next to Zogar.
“A manticore’s power lies in helping other superi.
” Grymper’s chin rises with a modicum of pride.
“While my kind considered this our greatest strength—our gift—others considered it a weakness. Many preyed upon us. Hunted us for our blood.” Visible tension rises in his shoulders and back, and his tail flicks again.
“When I met Vanora, she was one of a group of mages who opposed the separation of the Light from the Darkness. She knew that the powers of her people would be lessened if there were fewer mortals to fool.”
I walk around the edge of the altar so I can better see both Grymper’s face and Vanora’s. She’s livid.
Rosomon and Saxon both told me that mage’s illusions can be easily broken by other superi. It stands to reason that Vanora’s power would be diminished if there were fewer humans to trick.
“Vanora and her followers resented that her kind was ruled by a dragon shifter,” Grymper continues. “And I—” He looks down. “At that point, I suppose I resented anyone who had more power than I did. Anyone who might use me to enhance their own power.”
“And yet, that’s precisely what you let her do,” Zogar snaps.
Grymper nods. “Vanora gained my trust, and over time, we devised a plan. To be honest, I can’t begin to remember whether the initial ideas were hers or mine.”
“They were yours!” Vanora interjects. A gag appears in her mouth and her eyes narrow with anger.
“Regardless, I went along with it.” Grymper straightens in his chair. “I am certainly guilty of that.”
Zogar nods. “Continue.”
“I agreed to feed Vanora and her sisters to strengthen their powers. As the veil was constructed, we all hid, waiting and watching, until the dragons became completely dependent on their mortal riders.”
Rosomon turns toward Zogar. “Does this ring true to you?”
His jaw twitches. “Yes. I ignored the warnings of others.” He glances toward Xendus.
“As the veil took shape,” Zogar continues, “it became harder and harder for us to access the Darkness. Building the veil greatly drew on our powers, draining us. But instead of frequent trips back to the Darkness to replenish our magic, we chose to rely on the cooperation of a group of brave mortals, willing to mount a dragon’s back. ”
“With the cooperation of these mortals,” Zogar continues, “we could still fly in the Light. The riders agreed to release us once the veil was complete.”
“What happened to these men?” Saxon asks.
“Women.” Zogar turns toward him. “The riders were all women, and I can only begin to guess what became of them. Before the veil was completed, I was abandoned on the ground, separate from my people.”
Surath strides across the altar and points at Vanora. “As we grew weaker, you replaced our riders with mages!”
Vanora looks smug, even with the gag in her mouth. Zogar’s eyes fill with more fury, but he lets his sister continue.
“You forced mortals to build that canyon prison they came to call the enclaves. Then, once we were fully dependent on our riders for flight, your mage friends tricked us all into landing there.”
Vanora laughs through her gag, clearly proud of her actions. I move forward, closer to the action, and then sit on the rumpled pile of metal that was Othrix.
“Once the veil was complete,” Surath continues, “we were trapped on the ground, and our riders vanished.” Her eyes fill with fury. “Nearly a century passed before any mortal dared to mount one of us again. And when some did try, only males were presented.”
“Eventually, I allowed one of these inferior riders onto my pommel.” Surath’s hair flares around her. “I yielded so I could understand what had become of the Light. And I needed to locate our King.” Her gaze flicks toward Zogar.
Surath is vibrating with anger, and Xendus steps up and slides his hand onto her shoulder.
“I had no idea.” Grymper shakes his head. “No idea at all.”
Vanora is struggling to speak through her gag.
“What have you to say about this?” Zogar asks, and her gag disappears.
“The manticore knew everything!” Vanora says sharply and then turns toward him. “You were hungry for power. Starving for it. And the moment I told you you’d be worshiped as a god, you salivated over my plans.”
It’s not lost on me that Vanora just admitted the plans were hers. Rosomon and I make eye contact. My Rose noticed this too. I’ve never been more proud of her and have never loved her more.
Grymper shakes his mane but keeps his gaze down.
Vanora points toward Zogar. “If your people suffered, you’re the one to blame. You brought this all on yourself.”
Zogar rises, but Rosomon touches his arm to keep his fury contained. My Rose might not be a mage, but she does have magic, at least when it comes to taming Zogar. Another reason to admire and love her.
“How did Zogar bring this on himself?” Rosomon asks calmly.
Vanora raises her chin. “No single genus of mages should put themselves above others,” Vanora snaps. “The ability to shift into a monster and breathe fire does not give him the right to rule over all other mages.”
Zogar’s jaw shifts, and he frowns deeply. His look is now so fierce I’m afraid for the lives of everyone in the room. But he nods. “Had you expressed these grievances, I would have listened.”