¤ ¤ ¤
"GO!" Dilaf ordered.
Hrathen stood by, a dismayed observer, as Sarene fell into Dilaf's trap. The Dakhor monks sprang forward. jumping from hiding places along the base of the building. They leaped to the walls, their feet seeming to stick as they found tiny footholds between bricks and arrow slits. Several monks. already in place hanging from the back of the rooftop, swung up and cut off Sarene's escape.
Hrathen could hear startled yells as Sarene and her companion realized their predicament. It was too late. A few moments later, a Dakhor jumped down from the rooftop, a struggling princess in his arms.
"Hrathen, get me your Seon," Dilaf ordered.
Hrathen complied, opening the metal box and letting the ball of light float free. Hrathen hadn't bothered asking how the monk knew about the Seon. The Dakhor were Wyrn's favored warriors: their leader would be privy to many of his secrets.
"Seon, I wish to speak with King Eventeo," Dilaf said.
The Seon complied. Soon its light molded into the head of an overweight man with a proud face.
"I do not know you," Eventeo said. "Who calls for me in the middle of the night?"
"I am the man who has your daughter. King," Dilaf said, prodding Sarene in the side. The princess yelped despite herself.
Eventeo's head turned, as if searching out the source of the sound, though he would only be able to see Dilaf 's face. "Who are you?"
"I am Dilaf. Gragdet of the Dakhor Monastery."
"Merciful Domi . . ." Eventeo whispered.
Dilaf's eyes thinned, and he smiled evilly. "I thought you had converted, Eventeo. No matter. Wake your soldiers and gather them on their ships. I will arrive in Teod one hour from now, and if they are not ready to present a formal surrender, I will kill the girl."
"Father no!" Sarene yelled. "He can't be trusted!"
"Sarene?" Eventeo asked anxiously.
"One hour, Eventeo," Dilaf said. Then he swiped his hand in the air dismissively. The king's confused face melted back into the smooth spherical shape of a Seon.
"You will kill the Teos as well," Hrathen said in Fjordell.
"No," Dilaf said. "Others will perform those executions. I will just kill their king, then burn Teod's ships with the sailors still on them. Once the armada is gone, Wyrn can land his armies on Teod's shore and use the country as a battleground to prove his might."
"It is unnecessary you know," Hrathen said, feeling sick. "I had him—Eventeo was mine."
"He might have converted, Hrathen," Dilaf said, "but you are simpleminded if you think he would have allowed our troops to land on his soil."
"You are a monster," Hrathen whispered. "You will slaughter two kingdoms to feed your paranoia. What happened to make you hate Elantris so much?"
"Enough!" Dilaf shouted. "Do not think I won't hesitate to kill you. Gyorn. The Dakhor are outside the law!" The monk stared at Hrathen with menacing eyes. then slowly calmed, breathing deeply as he noticed his captives again.
The still disoriented Raoden was stumbling toward his wife, who was being held by a quiet Dakhor. The prince reached out to her, his arm wavering.
"Oh," Dilaf said, unsheathing his sword. "I forgot about you." He smiled wickedly as he rammed the blade through Raoden's stomach.
¤ ¤ ¤
THE pain washed over Raoden like a sudden wave of light. He hadn't even seen the thrust coming.
He felt it, however. Groaning, he stumbled to his knees. The agony was unimaginable, even for one whose pain had been building steadily for two months. He held his stomach with trembling hands. He could feel the Dor. It felt . . . close.
It was too much. The woman he loved was in danger, and he could do nothing. The pain, the Dor, his failure ... The soul that was Raoden crumpled beneath their combined weight, giving a final sigh of resignation.
After that there was no longer pain, for there was no longer seIf. There was nothing.
¤ ¤ ¤
SARENE screamed as Raoden fell to the ground. She could see the suffering in his face, and she felt the sword as if it had been run through her own stomach. She shuddered, weeping as Raoden struggled for a moment, his legs working. Then he just ... stopped.
"Failed . ." Raoden whispered, his lips forming a Hoed mantra. "Failed my love. Failed...."
"Bring her," Dilaf said. The words, spoken in Fjordell, barely registered in Sarene's mind.
"And the others?" a monk asked.
"Gather them with the rest of the people in this accused town and take them into Elantris," Dilaf said. "You will find the Elantrians near the center of the city in a place that seems more cleanly."
"We found them, my gragdet." the monk said. "Our men have already attacked."
"Ah, good," Dilaf said with a hiss of pleasure. "Make certain you gather their bodies—Elantrians do not die as easily as normal men, and we do not want to let any of them escape."
"Yes, my gragdet."
"When you have them all in one place, bodies, Elantrians, and future Elantrians, say the purification rites. Then burn them all."
"Yes, my gragdet." the warrior said. bowing his head.
"Come. Hrathen." Dilaf said. "You will accompany me to Teod."
Sarene fell into a disbelieving stupor as they pulled her away, watching Raoden until his slumped form was no longer visible in the night.
CHAPTER 60
GALLADON hid in the shadows, careful not to move until the gyorn and his strange, bare-chested companions were gone. Then, motioning to Karata, he crept up to Raoden's body. "Sule?" Raoden did not move.
"Doloken, Sule!" Galladon said, choked with emotion. 'Don't do this to me!" A noise came from Raoden's mouth, and Galladon leaned in eagerly, listening.
"Failed . . ." Raoden whispered. "Failed my love . . ." The mantra of the fallen: Raoden had joined the Hoed.
Galladon sank down on the hard cobblestones, his body shaking as he wept tearlessly. The last hour had been a horror. Galladon and Karata had been at the library, planning how to lead the people away from Elantris. They had heard the screams even at that distance, but by the time they had arrived at New Elantris, no one but Hoed remained. As far as he knew, he and Karata were the last two conscious Elantrians.
Karata placed a hand on his shoulder. "Galladon, we should go. This place is not safe."
"No," Galladon said, climbing to his feet. "I have a promise to keep." He looked up at the mountain slope just outside of Kae, a slope that held a special pool of water. Then, reaching down. he tied his jacket around Raoden to cover the wound, and hefted his friend up onto his shoulder.
"Raoden made me vow to give him peace," Galladon said. "After I see to him. intend to do the same for myself. We are the last, Karata: there is no more room for us in this world."
The woman nodded, moving to take part of Raoden's burden on herself. Together. the two of them began the hike that would end in oblivion.
¤ ¤ ¤
LUKEL didn't struggle: there was little use in it. His father, however, was a different story. It took three Fjordells to bind Kiin and throw him on a horse—and even then. the large man managed to get off the odd kick at a passing head.
Eventually, one of the soldiers thought to smash him on the back of the skull with a rock, and Kiin fell still.
Lukel held his mother and wife close as the warriors herded them toward Elantris. There was a long line of people—nobles gathered from the corners of Kae, their clothing and faces ragged. Soldiers kept a watchful eye on the captives—as if any of them had the courage or will left to try escaping. Most of the people didn't even look up as they were pushed through the streets.
Kaise and Daorn clung to Lukel, wide-eyed and frightened. Lukel pitied them the most, for their youth. Adien walked along behind him, apparently unconcerned. He slowly counted the steps as he moved. "Three hundred fifty-seven, three hundred fifty-eight, three hundred fifty-nine . . ."
Lukel knew that they were marching to their own execution. He saw the bodies that lined the streets, and he understood that these men were not intent on domination. They were here to commit a massacre, and no massacre would be complete with victims left alive.
He considered fighting back, grabbing a sword in some hopeless feat of heroism. But in the end. he simply plodded along with the others. He knew that he was going to die, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was no warrior. The best he could hope for was a quick end.
¤ ¤ ¤
HRATHEN stood next to Dilaf, remaining perfectly still as instructed. They stood in a circle—fifty Dakhor, Sarene, and Hrathen, with one solitary monk in the center. The Dakhor raised their hands, and the men on either side of Hrathen placed a hand on his shoulder. His heart began to pound as the monks began to glow, the bone inscriptions beneath their skin shining. There was a jarring sensation, and Kae vanished around them.
They reappeared in an unfamiliar city. The houses lining the nearby street were tall and connected, rather than separated and squat like those of Kae. They had arrived in Teod.
The group still stood in a circle, but Hrathen did not fail to notice that the man in the center was now missing. Hrathen shuddered, images from his youth returning. The monk in the center had been fuel, his flesh and soul burned away—a sacrifice in return for the instantaneous transportation to Teod.
Dilaf stepped forward, leading his men up the street. As far as Hrathen could tell, Dilaf had brought the bulk of his monks with him, leaving Arelon in the care of regular Fjordell soldiers and a few Dakhor overseers. Arelon and Elantris had been defeated: the next battle was Teod. Hrathen could tell from Dilaf's eyes that the monk would not be satisfied until every person of Aonic descent was dead.
Dilaf chose a building with a flat roof and motioned for his men to climb. It was easy for them. their enhanced strength and agility helping them leap and scramble up surfaces no normal man could possibly scale. Hrathen felt himself lifted and thrown over a monk's shoulder. and the ground fell away as he was carted up the side of the wall—carried without difficulty despite his plate armor. The Dakhor were unnatural monstrosities, but one couldn't help being awed at their power.
The monk dropped Hrathen unceremoniously on the roof, his armor clanking against the stone. As Hrathen pulled himself to his feet, his eyes found those of the princess. Sarene's face was a tempest of hatred. She blamed him, of course. She didn't realize that, in a way, Hrathen was as much a prisoner as she.
Dilaf stood at the edge of the roof, scanning the city. A fleet of ships was pulling into Teod's enormous bay.
"We are early." Dilaf said, squatting down. "We will wait."
¤ ¤ ¤
GALLADON could almost imagine that the city was peaceful. He stood on a mountainside boulder. watching the morning's light creep across Kae—as if an invisible hand were pulling back a dark shade. He could almost convince himself that the rising smoke was coming from chimneys, not the ashen wrecks of buildings. He could nearly believe that the specks lining the streets were not bodies, but bushes or boxes, the crimson blood on the streets a trick of the early sunlight.