Alisiyad Chapter 22 ~ Take Me to the King (Part 2)

Morning came without him knowing it.  The light didn’t change, the darkness didn’t change.  He’d slept on and off throughout the night, dreaming nightmares, waking to worse reality.  Then, apparently, it was morning and the door opened, flooding his cell with yellow light.

Two guards unchained him from the floor and heaved him to his feet.  He could barely stand, every muscle feeling like he’d been beaten to a pulp.  They walked him out, down a hall, to another room where they splashed water on his face — “cleaning him up,” they called it — and let him relieve himself over a trough along the wall.  One last piss before dying, he thought ironically.  Now that it came to it, he just felt numb.  He only hoped that Liseli would miss him.  Or at least remember him.

The guards led him up a flight of stairs.  They put smaller chains on him, shackles on his hands and feet that would still allow him to walk.  He went without protest.  It wasn’t like it would do any good.

They brought him above ground, then, and he found himself walking down a corridor with empty cages on each side.  The place smelled like . . . something . . . somewhere he’d been before.  They walked a little further and came past cages that weren’t empty, and he remembered.  He’d been to the dog pound once, when he was eleven, with a friend whose dog had been picked up by animal control for trotting down Main Street without a collar.  The kennel.  Oh God.  Oh Fucking God.  If these dogs trotted down the main street of Fayette, no one would notice whether or not they were wearing collars.  Everyone would run screaming.  He wanted to run screaming.

Somehow he kept walking.  Some of the dogs were still sleeping, some were scratching their ears, yawning, stretching, some eyed him groggily as he paraded by.  Don’t panic.  Just looking at them was like reliving every bite over again.  But he kept walking silently between the guards.  When he had been in that dog pound, so long ago, he’d stared at all the scruffy mutts and wished, more than he’d wished for anything besides his father coming back, that he could take one home.  Now he stared straight ahead and tried not to think about the monsters that these people called “dogs.”

They exited the building, walked past outdoor cages and a large empty yard scattered with bones.  He gulped, wondering what kind of bones they were.  Probably just dinner scraps, pig legs and cow hocks.  Probably.

They passed the garden without entering, continuing past the dog kennels to walk under a gateway that led to a courtyard.  Women were out doing laundry in the morning sun, hanging clothes up to dry, and they paused to stare at him.  He realized that he probably did look pretty shitty.  Funny they all looked at him mistrustfully, disapprovingly, maybe even a little disgustedly, before quickly turning back to their work.  No one seemed to pity the fact that he was being marched to his death.

They entered the palace by a back entrance near the servant quarters. They kept on walking, stepping into larger, fancier halls with artwork and sculptures lining the way.  Russ wasn’t in a mood to admire the decorations and high ceilings, but as he looked around he couldn’t help but compare it to Arlic’s house in Elharan.  That had reminded him more of an old castle, gray and shadowy.  Leeton’s palace was brighter, more open and modern seeming.  Where Elharan had been dark, Varaneshe was light.  Ironically so, he thought.

He stumbled, and the guards gripped him tighter, steadying him and pushing him on.  They turned him into a room and sat him down roughly on a wooden chair.  He feared for a moment that he was about to be tortured.  But it confused him.  The simple chair was in stark contrast to the rest of the room.  A massive desk with an ornate chair stood toward the back, reminding him of a judge’s seat in a courtroom.  The walls were painted gold with dark blue curtains framing the windows that spread from floor to ceiling.  A beautifully woven blue and gold rug was underneath him, and he thought vaguely that they probably wouldn’t want to get his blood on it.  He looked at the desk again, and thought with a glimmer of hope that maybe he was going to get a trial.  Then his heart sank again, as he took stock of himself, bound with chains, unshaven, haggard, smelling, dressed in rough travel clothes.  He didn’t know what he was supposed to say for himself . . . .  There didn’t seem to be any legitimate way to explain his presence, and there was that dead guard . . . .

Two men entered the room near the back, by the desk.  The first was dressed in a white blouse-like shirt and long dark blue pants.  He wore an embroidered jacket over it; long like the style Arlic wore, blue but covered in a gold-threaded pattern like curling vines. The man’s hair was short curling black and he had light blue eyes that landed on Russ with a frown the moment he entered.  He looked to be maybe late 30s, early 40s, but Russ had a feeling he wasn’t.  Instead of sitting behind the desk he leaned against it, crossing his arms.

The other man was less interesting.  He wore a simple black robe and stood by the door.

“So, this is him?” the first man asked, but then without pausing went on, “Has he been questioned?”

“No,” said the second.  “I haven’t had a chance.  Would you rather we worked on him first?”

He shook his head, much to Russ’s relief.  “I’ll do it,” he said, a little more ominously.  “What is your name?”

Russ’s mind went blank.  What was the name he was supposed to give?  He couldn’t remember!  Did it matter?  Ayohdi, no that was Currun’s, his was—

“Answer the King,” the man by the door said sharply, and one of the guards struck Russ on the back of his head.

“Ah.”  Russ winced, his eyes watering.  The hell with it, he thought, sitting up straight.  He met the King’s hard blue eyes and tried to look undaunted.  “Russell John Markson.  Junior,” he threw in, hoping it might sound good.

King Leeton stared at him for a long moment.  His eyes flickered, turning a darker shade of blue.  Russ stared back, wondering at the sudden, inhuman shift.  But that was the only change in Leeton’s expression; Russ couldn’t tell what was actually going on in the King’s head, and it was unnerving.  He faltered, finding himself staring at the jacket, unable to stand the scrutiny of those eyes.  “What was that?” Leeton asked slowly.

Russ swallowed.  “Russ,” he said.  “My name is Russ.”

“Where are you from?” the King snapped.

Northern fishing villages, northern fishing villages . . . .  “Oh, you haven’t heard of it,” he mumbled.

“Answer the King!” the other man ordered again, and another hand smacked Russ’s head.

“Stop it,” Leeton said irritably.  He stepped forward and yanked Russ’s chin up.  “Try me.”

“Fayette.”

“You’re an otherworlder,” Leeton said bluntly, releasing his face.  “Fayette is a French name.  But you speak English and have an English name.  You must be either American or Canadian.  Which is it?”

Russ looked at him curiously.  “How do you know all that?”

“I’m asking the questions,” Leeton said, but held his hand up to the guards.  Russ still ducked.

“Alright, I’m from America.  Wisconsin.  It’s by the Great Lakes.”

“I know where it is,” snapped Leeton.  “How did you get here?”

Russ clasped his hands together, feeling the manacles bite into his wrists.  “I walked.”

“You walked.  How did you walk from your world to this one?”

“I’m not sure.  It just happened,” Russ said, thinking of the strange feeling he’d gotten by the Mill, like standing on an edge, then the reaching and the light and the strange gray road . . . .  But he kept silent about that.  “I was back home one moment and here the next.  Sort of.”

“Oh so it was all that easy,” Leeton said with disgust.  “So you just glided through a Gate without even knowing it was there.  Don’t play stupid with me, I know a thing or two about Gates, Russell John Markson Junior.”  He stopped, took a breath, calming himself.  “What you claim is impossible.  The Gates are shut.  Deactivated.”

“Broken,” Russ added quietly.

“Broken.  Why do you say that?” Leeton asked, leaning toward him.  “Tell me.”

“It felt like it was broken,” Russ said, realizing that explanation for the first time.  “That’s why it hurt.”

“It hurt; you didn’t say that.”  Leeton crossed him arms and tapped his fingers against them impatiently.

Russ shrugged one shoulder.  “I saw a road,” he admitted, feeling the back of his head tingle.  “Sort of.  Only for a little bit, then a big light swallowed everything and I was here.  In Alisiya.  In the woods.”

“A big light.  Did this light speak to you?” Leeton pressed.

“Ah . . . ah . . . yeah, actually,” Russ remembered in surprise.  “Not with words though.  Not like . . . that.  I felt it.”

“It felt you.”  Leeton turned and paced away, stopping in thought.  He raised a hand to stroke his clean-shaven face.

“Ahem,” the man by the door cleared his throat.  “My lord, this man was found in the garden last night, by the body of one of the guards.  He murdered the man and I believe we should be focusing on why he—”

Leeton waved his hand and shook his head, cutting the man off.  “No, Prosporin; later.  This is far more important, with all due respect to our man.  Who—” he spared Russ with a glance “—leaves behind a bereaved wife and three small children.  We will discuss what you were doing in my garden, killing my guards, later.  Right now I want to know what you are doing in my world.”

“I’m sorry,” Russ mumbled, looking away, thinking of the guard, Currun’s tackle . . . he couldn’t say he himself hadn’t done it, though.  If the King didn’t know about Currun yet, chances were he and Alisiya had gotten away.  He couldn’t alert Leeton to them now.

“You are sorry.  I will pass that message on to the devastated family,” Leeton replied coldly.  “Now,” he turned back to Prosporin, “leave us for a little while, please.”

“But—”

“And the guards.”  Leeton jerked his head at them.  “I want to talk to the prisoner alone.”

“Very well.”  The man bowed, motioned to the guards, and the three of them left.  Russ shifted nervously in his chair, but tried to keep his chin up.  Leeton seemed to find him interesting for the time being, and he wasn’t being killed yet.  That had to be good.

When they were alone, Leeton said, “Stand up.”

Russ stood, and swallowed.  He met Leeton’s eyes.  The King put his hands behind his back and started to circle Russ, looking him up and down.  “Do you travel?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Um.  No,” Russ said.  “Not till now, anyway.  It was sort of an accident.”  He coughed.

“An accident.  I think that you are lying,” Leeton said.  He seemed to have gotten over his initial surprise and spoke calmly.  Russ found it even more unsettling.  “When a Gate is closed, or broken if you’d like, there is no way a novice Key can simply stumble through it unawares.  Though you do look like the stumbling kind.”

“Thanks,” Russ said without exhaling.

Leeton shook his head.  “Yet that is impossible.  I made it so.  I made it so even those who try cannot get through.”  He rounded Russ and came to a stop in front of him again.  “How did you get through my Gate?  If you are a Key so strong that you could enter a Gate I have closed, these chains would be nothing to you,” he said, eyes flickering in puzzlement.  “Yet that you are an otherworlder I’ve no doubt.  An otherworlder or an excellent actor.”

“I . . . .”

“And yet my homeworld.”  Leeton’s fists clenched.  “So close to my home state.”  He shook his head.  “It was in France I found my first Gate, but I spent my early boyhood in Illinois.  It took me thirty years of travelling to reach Alisiya, and here you stumble right into it from a Gate practically in my old backyard.  I have been trying understand the rhyme and reason of the worlds all my life, and one thing I know is this—”

Russ fought the urge to squirm, waiting for Leeton to finish.

“No one, no one stumbles through a Gate by accident.  So do not play stupid with me.  I have shut all the Gates leading in and out of Alisiya; otherworlders with your technology and your magic and your wars are not welcome.  You are a trespasser in my world and I can have you executed for it.  So consider well your answer; how and why are you here?”

Russ was silent, but his mind raced.  The memories of crossing over from the Mill were confusing and vague, especially after all that had happened since.  Leeton seemed to believe that he knew more about “gates” and “keys” and “worlds” than he actually did, but he couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or not.  Finally he said, “It brought me here.  Whatever that light was, it’s what got me here.  And Liseli, too.  Or maybe I brought Liseli when it grabbed me.  I’m not sure.  But it was alive, I think.”

“Who is Liseli?” Leeton asked, almost off hand.  He had been regarding Russ thoughtfully but what he thought of the half-explanation Russ didn’t know.  The casual question threw him for a moment, and he stared blankly.

Then he narrowed his eyes and tried to respond with equal indifference; “A friend of mine.”  Leeton raised an eyebrow, and Russ shifted with a cough.  He felt a flare of annoyance, and added, “Actually she’s my girlfriend.  But you already tried to kill us once, so I thought you knew all this already.”

“Try to kill you?” Leeton scoffed.  “I’ve never met you nor heard of you before in my life.”

“You sent your dogs to maul me!” said Russ, louder than before.  He frowned.  “And they did.”

“My dogs?” Leeton started.  “You’ve seen my dogs?  Charlie and Bruto?  Where are they?”

“Dead,” Russ said as firmly as he could.  “They’re dead.”

“Ha.”  Leeton didn’t believe him.  “If Charlie and Bruto attacked you for some reason, you would be the dead one.”

Russ shrugged and looked away, setting his jaw as he remembered the pain.  “You sent them to kill me and Liseli just like you sent them to kill Byzauki and Ilia,” he said recklessly, growing tired of the questions.  He didn’t know if Leeton was going to kill him or not, be he hated the thought of being drilled to death and called a liar before being offed.

“What do you know of that?” Leeton asked harshly, taking a step toward him.

“I know a lot of things,” Russ muttered.

Leeton took another step.  “Enlighten me.”

Russ leaned back a little, lifting his head so he could look at Leeton under his half-closed eyelids.  He had a feeling what he was about to say wouldn’t go over well, but he said quietly, “I know about Aysha, and the River, and your feud with the Erykumyn.”

“Is that all.”  Leeton surprised him with his level tone and unflinching face.

Russ didn’t answer.

“So you’re another one of Arlic’s messiahs,” Leeton grunted, relaxing.  “I should have known.  His standards have gotten quite low.  So you broke into my palace to assassinate me, did you?”

“Maybe.”

Leeton snorted.  He shook his head.  “What about my dogs?  Charlie and Bruto.  If they are dead, who killed them?  You?”  He looked doubtful.

“Not sure,” Russ realized.  “I was kind of out of it.  Mauled and all,” he added dryly.

“Where are your scars?  My dogs go for the throat, I don’t see any scars.”  Leeton reached out and took his chin again, pushing his head up and side to side.

Russ clenched his fists.  “River water,” was all he could say.

Leeton let him go with a jerk.  “The River is broken,” he said.  “My dogs didn’t attack you.  Why would they?  I gave no such order.  I knew nothing of your presence till now.”

“Then where the hell are your dogs?” Russ snapped, quickly falling silent as Leeton glared at him.

“I don’t know,” the King said.  “They disappeared a few days ago.  But they of all my dogs were the least vicious.  They were my pets.  I find it hard to believe that they would run off and start attacking people.”

Least vicious my chewed up ass.  Russ didn’t respond.  Leeton started to pace, shaking his head.

“Why were you in my garden?”

Russ looked at his feet.

“Why?  Did Arlic send you?”

“Maybe.”

Leeton shoved him back down onto the chair.  It almost tipped over, but Leeton gripped his shoulder and kept him upright.  “There is only one person in all the worlds that my dogs would obey, besides me.”  He pointed with his other hand.  “Give me one good reason why she would want you dead.”

She?  “Alisiya,” Russ said under her breath, then snapped his mouth shut.  He shook his head.  No, it didn’t make sense.  Why would she send the dogs?  Why would she want him and Liseli to . . . no, the dogs had passed Liseli by.  Why would she want just him dead?  He felt cold.  Why would she want Liseli?  Liseli without him?  What could Liseli do for her? he wondered blankly.

Leeton was watching him.  “You were in my garden after my daughter,” he said coldly.  “How did you know about her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leeton slapped him, driving his head to the side.  “You were trying to get into the tombs!  For what?  There’s nothing there.  But her.  But my daughter.  Did you come here to steal her, kill her, expose her to the world?  What?”

Russ lifted his head slowly, wincing.  “She asked me to come.”

“She asked you,” Leeton scoffed.  “She sent Charlie and Bruto to kill you and then allowed her River to heal you, and then just ‘asked you to come.’  Is that so.”

“Her River?” Russ echoed.

“Yes, her River.  You don’t know as much as you claim, do you?  Either that or you insist on playing stupid,” Leeton said angrily.  “Ever since her birth the River has loved her; this whole world loves her.  It obeys her.”

Russ frowned.  “It’s just water.”

“No it isn’t.  It’s not ‘just water’ and it never has been.  This world is alive, and every now and then during the course of history it has reared up and bitten the people.  Only my daughter keeps it in check, these days, limiting the deadliness to the Chaiorra.  I have figured that out, even if everyone else believes in their fool ‘curse.’  I suppose you thought you were an anointed one who would kill me and ‘heal the River,’ didn’t you?  That’s what Arlic told you, I’m sure.”  Leeton poked him in the chest.  “You just stop believing that right now, because there is no curse.”

“Except when Alisiya wants there to be,” said Russ, feeling his guts wrench.

Leeton suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.  “What does that mean?  Why have you come here?  And come to think of it, how did you speak to my daughter . . . as you claim?”

“The Child,” Russ gasped as his already tender head smacked against the chair back.  “I’ve seen her as . . . the Child.  She said . . . she said she was a ‘sending.’  Of herself.”

“Yes.  I’ve long suspected she and the Child are one in the same.  But no one has ever told of hearing her talk, since that day she spoke the prophecy,” Leeton didn’t let go.  “But why did she tell you to come?  And why did you come?”

“She wanted to be free!” Russ tried to jerk his head away.  Leeton held fast.  “And she told me she would help Liseli if I freed her.  So I came to . . . to try.  But I’ve failed.”

“Help Liseli?” Leeton echoed, twisted his hair.  “Why does this Liseli of yours need help?”

Russ glowered as his scalp screamed in pain.  “Let go of me, dammit!” he burst.  “If you’re gonna kill me just fucking do it!  If you wanna question me I’m getting sick of being yanked around!”

Leeton released him roughly, shoving his chin down and pulling his hair before letting go.  He stepped away.  “Tell me, then.”

Russ shook his hair out of his eyes.  He wished he could break out of his chains and sock Leeton in the jaw before getting the hell away.  Instead he forced his temper down and said, “When we first came here, I had a cold, and then I got even more sick.  I almost died.  Then the River healed me up.  Completely.  So when your dogs tore the shit out of me, Liseli went down to the River to get water to help me again.  She ended up almost drowning in it, but Eliasha — Arlic’s granddaughter — pulled her out.  Only, she’s been in a coma since then.  Since Thursday.”  He took a deep breath.  “Alisiya appeared to me, and told me that if I came here and freed her, she’d be able to revive Liseli.  So here I am.  That what you want to hear?”

“Alisiya doesn’t need freeing,” Leeton crossed his arms, his eyes like holes in ice.  “If my daughter wanted to escape, she could do it without your help.  I will always bring her back to me, but do you honestly think that she needs a fool like you to help her leave this place?  No.  If Alisiya asked you here it wasn’t just to free her.”

“That’s what she told me,” Russ shrugged.

“Hm,” Leeton snorted.  “Well.  Can’t this ‘girlfriend’ of yours swim?  I suppose the both of you can drink from the River without harm, that’s how the prophecy goes,” he bit the air with his words.

“I don’t know,” Russ snapped.  “I don’t know if she can swim.  I never asked her.  But she’s in a coma right now and Alisiya told me it was because she was under your spell.”

Leeton barked out a laugh.  “My spell?  I stopped working spells ninety years ago.  The last spell I cast was the birth of my daughter.”

“Then why—” Russ stopped, realizing the answer to his question: Alisiya would have to wake Liseli up because Alisiya had put her to sleep.  Fuck.  You should have known.

Leeton nodded, as if reading his thoughts.  “Perhaps we should be asking Alisiya what all this is about.”

“No.”  Russ heard his voice squeak.  “I mean . . . that’s not . . . necessary.”

“Really.  Don’t you want to meet Alisiya, as she really is?” Leeton shook his head, with a sardonic smile.  “We will.  We’ll go down to her rooms and find out what she’s up to.”  Leeton hooked a hand under his shoulder and pulled him up.  “That will clear this whole matter up far better, I think, than we are this way.”