Chapter 20

Chapter 20

‘You have a traitor in your midst.’

The words came from the woman seated in the íkhara’s welcome lounge across from Sana’a, Kaxim, Killen, and Kione.

She was cloaked in gold, her face hidden by an intricate beaked mask. She spoke from behind it in a soft voice.

She’d ghosted in just minutes before, interrupting a training session.

The íkan shield around the kíota had parted as she’d approached in a buoyant, silent, yet slow flight.

Neither of the King’s Armourers had acted surprised by her sudden appearance.

Instead, they’d welcomed her by taking her hand and bowing over it, a sign of their deep respect for her.

‘Is Kultur on-premises?’ the mystery guest added.

‘Nada,’ Kaxim growled. ‘He left for an unknown location earlier.’

‘Good, then we can speak without prejudice.’

Sana’a and Killen exchanged glances at her words.

She must have caught their mystified expressions. ‘He is too close to the arokí for my liking.’

‘He is?’ Killen murmured.

‘I believe so. Keep your eye out for him. As I said, you have a quisling—in the army camp on Karth, to be exact, and at the highest level—one of your kíndunas.’

Kaxim jerked his head, sniffing in annoyance. ‘Kermis? He holds a grudge against me for not picking him as Kínduna of the Kíríga’s Klós.’

The shrouded woman shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it could be anyone. Kaibani, Kytan, Kermis or K’Laino.’

‘Not Kaibani,’ the King’s First Armourer qualified. ‘He’s true to the core and would die for this cause in a heartbeat. Which is why I left him in charge of the kambí untilIreturn.’

‘Then it’s one of the others,’ the woman stated with confidence.

‘And you know this how?’ Killen asked.

She leaned in. ‘They don’t call me the songbird for nothing. I get close to the ears of the Kəˈnerē. I hear and see things. Kassian and his Kɛstrəlkíndunas have met with Kalila in the last few days, and I’ve managed to catch snippets of their conversation.’

Killen’s head cocked as he stared at her. ‘You’ve also infiltrated the royal kíota without the kσχύς cage forming over you. Which means you have regal blood.’

‘I’m not royal in a manner of speaking,’ she corrected the Kíríga. ‘But I have sovereign íkan in one of my koya, which was gifted to me by Kesia and Kaadiq many years ago.’

She removed her gilded bird mask to reveal her face.

Again, Sana’a and Killen exchanged glances of surprise.

Unfazed, Kione and Kaxim jerked their chins at her in acknowledgement.

‘Kamilla. The singer from the street,’ Sana’a murmured, the more shocked of the four.

‘And also the songbird at the Sābər Arena,’ Killen added. ‘With the voice that thrills the kä’avi and induces grown men to tears.’

‘Sante, though the latter is not my aim,’ Kamilla agreed with a short smile. ‘We’re family if you can believe it, Kíríga by marriage. Your mother, K’Elisa, is Kalila’s niece. I’m Kalila’s stepdaughter, which makes me privy to my stepmother’s machinations and scheming. Kaxim and Kione have been working with me for some time now.’

‘To what end?’

‘To Kalila’s end,’ Kamilla said matter of fact.

‘You’d betray the woman who raised you just like that?’ Sana’a challenged.

The newcomer gave her a steady stare. ‘She married my father, a Kírkos merchant after he’d had me out of wedlock with his Kāzin housemaid who happened to have a strand of songbird koel in her. So, in Kalila’s eyes, I was and remain the lowest of the low. I am not royal. I have no favoured bloodline, lineage or Kəˈnerē ancestry.’

‘And yet the hawkstone reacts to you,’ Killen murmured, sensing the jewel on his temple throbbing and pulsing at the woman’s presence.

‘Interesting,’ Kamilla commented, her eyes flicking over his forehead. ‘Still, Kalila has never been a mother to me, and our relationship is nothing if not toxic. She abandoned me to nurses and carers for most of my life and treated me like she’d no need of me as a child. She only keeps me around because she hopes I will agree to a good marriage. One that’ll be a political, power-drunk union that she can manipulate and hates me because I refuse to do so.’

‘Fokk,’ Kione growled. ‘That sucks.’

She shrugged. ‘Worse, she is a powerful kόνit, a poisons expert under your grandfather Tempest Light. Did you know she conjured the poison that murdered her husband, my father? She used a toxicant rachís to stroke his skin in the pretence of cooling him down after a day of heat.’

‘Why would she do something so despicable?’ Killen murmured.

‘He’d done his duty,’ she grated, her voice bitter. ‘Provided his sperm and genes, she now needed his access to money to continue her extensive gambling. She’s also suspected of advising many courtiers on how to use potions, extracts and poisons to murder their contemporaries. However, she covers her tracks well, and no one can prove it, so we remain helpless to her machinations.’

Killen leaned forward. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘That she’s such an evil bitch and unapologetic khārpi?’ his unexpected guest muttered.

‘That she is our blood,’ he clarified.

The Koel shrugged.‘It’s an emptiness that I’ve learned to live with. My music and singing help, as does subverting her plans by working against her without her knowledge.’

Killen studied her, letting his hawkstone scan her.

In response, her lodestone burnt bright with no shadow.

She is all light and pure.

He nodded to himself as his hawkstone quieted.

‘What does she think you’re doing most days?’ the Kíríga asked.

Kamilla cocked her head. ‘What else does a young, single noble woman do in Katánē? From dawn to dusk, I give the illusion that I shop, eat at fancy restaurants, and party like a privileged and plumed girl. It makes a good cover for my art between watching and listening in to the machinations of my stepmother.’

Killen’s brow rose. ‘What do you have to share?’

She slipped off her wrist tab and tapped on it.

A holo shimmered into sight.

‘I’ll set the scene,’ the koel said. This was at one of the recent Kəthi matches in the Sābər Arena, in the royal booth at the centre of the grand noble’s wing.’

The vision was of a group clustered around a table, all leaning in, their faces intent.

‘Present is Kishan, my stepbrother,’ Kamilla clarified, ‘Kalila and the rogue commanders, KaKos and Koto. Who are in service to Kassian.’

In seconds, their conversation filtered through.

‘Where is the fokkin usurper?’ the shrill voice of the sharp-faced Kalila asked. ‘KaKos, Koto, someone will need to rise and take the throne if the Hawkstone is lost forever. Who fights for us?’

The two men across from her shared glances, their krests aquiver. Their faces were weathered, battle-worn, and twisted into a permanent hardness.

‘Kassian is assembling his forces in the north,’ KaKos whispered. ‘He will soon have enough hawkmen to storm Kos and the Karthian kambí of the mutineer army. Plus, we have our kíndunas plant in place, and he reassures me that at the right time, chaos will rain down on the Sābər Kainôs army. He awaits your signal, Kalila.’

‘I’m not sure it’ll be that easy,’ Kalila replied. ‘We need a sure-fire victory.’

‘What do you suggest?’ This time, the portly Koto spoke in a voice that was a cross between a hiss and a hoarse cough.

Kalila leaned in with a vicious smile. ‘I will consult with my personal arokí seer, to discuss what he and I can rustle up to track down the usurper. I’m sick and tired of hearing of sightings of him lurking all over Katánē. His name is being whispered in corners and causing strife throughout the Thousand-Mile Lands. How have we not met, seen or heard from him yet? Where is he hiding? All the kantinas are dripping with hearsay about him and his plans to take the throne. So why can’t we find him? Is he just a bad rumour?’

Kishan frowned. ‘He’s no rumour mother. It’s what I’ve been warning you for weeks now.’

Kalila snorted. ‘We need to get rid of him wherever he fokkin’ is. If indeed the usurper lives, I’ll rout him out and tear his innards with my talons.’

‘But isn’t he your blood, mother?’ KaKos asked. ‘Didn’t the Kia Malkia, your niece K’Elisa, claim he was her own when they fought the Kíríga? May he soar in peace on Devansi.’

The royal woman turned to her son with a sneer. ‘I care not who he is, this so-called half-wing. He is not Katánian; he has a diluted blood right if that, and does not deserve the great lodestone. If it on his head, as some say, I will tear it and his brains from him, in part for what he did to my brother and also because he does not warrant it.’

‘You always were so cutthroat, Kalila,’ Koto tittered.

His laughter was interjected by the crowd’s roars as a bout began in the arena below.

The vision disappeared as the holo shimmered off.

Killen grunted. ‘Who else is on her side?’

‘Some of the older and former Kiama council members,’ Kamilla replied. ‘Just last week, she forced Kishan and me to visit one of their eyries with her, where I witnessed her stirring up dissent and making deals. As Kalila admitted, she has partnered with the arokí to devise dark kätu íkantations to rout you.’

‘I keep hearing of these so-called formidable witchers. Is there any truth to the rumours of their powers?’ the Kíríga murmured.

Kamilla nodded. ‘Their spells can be devastating when done in great numbers. They’ve fashioned themselves into a saboteur squad of true believers who want to return to the old ways, the ancient age. They regard the usurper, you, as the enemy, the outsider.’

‘Ol’ innocent me?’ Killen smirked.

Kamilla was much more sober-faced. ‘They fear what you represent.’

‘What’s that?’ The Král-In-Waiting challenged.

‘A bold new vision for Katánē.’ Kamilla told him. ‘One that will unite the people and embrace a bright, bold future that leads with tekhnē once again. Rumours of your father, the Rider, and your ship and its intelligence enhancements are the talk of Kos. They also dread you will continue your grandfather’s work.’

Killen cocked his head, eyes glittering with curiosity. ‘What would that be?’

The koel tilted her head as she pulled from her memories. ‘Contrary to everything said about your grandfather, he’d begun to ease his hard stance against technology. The Kythnians had come to him in secret after he threatened to take their moon. They’d shared how ahead they were in terms of knowledge and armaments, and it scared the shit out of him. He realised that kowtowing to the Luddite arokí was taking the planet backward. So he began exploring what could be done in partnership with the Kythnians.’

What happened?’ Sana’a asked.

‘Kalila found out,’ Kamilla grimaced. She was a true believer of the arokí, but she’d always genuflected to the King, her brother, in public. But her praise didn’t fool Kesia or myself because we were privy to how she acted in private. Years in the thrall of the arokí reshaped Kalila, darkening her heart and driving her to believe in dark íkan. She funded them, raved about them, and even proselytised for them. In the view of those around her, she became unglued.

Kaxim grunted. ‘So she publicly worshipped the OktoKíríga but in secret pursued another agenda.’

‘Naam,’ Kamilla said. ‘She also seeded a compelling story—that she controlled the King herself and was his closest confidant. Like most of Kalila’s stories, this was wild hyperbole but hypnotically powerful to the people primed to trust it.’

‘Did she? Have his ear?’ Killen growled.

‘As I said,’ Kamilla went on, ‘he listened to the Kiama, But he’d also allowed the great Känon of the land, Koreau, to set up the S’kiə Council of younger, more forward-thinking members. Some of it was starting to persuade him that avoiding advancements was holding Katánē back. She didn’t like that. So his passing is not all that much regret for her.’

Kione jerked his chin act the koel. ‘What’s her plan?’

She sighed. ‘To have the rogue Kɛstrəl commanders, led by Kassian, vanquish the Sābər Kainôs army so she can place her son, Kishan, as her puppet on the throne. If she intends to use dark kätu, you must be well-armed. Kíríga, your sābər íkan kätu won’t be good enough. You’ll need the trio of axillae sābərs.’

Kaxim started. ‘Aren’t they just legends? Old wives tales?’

Kamilla shook her head. ‘Nada, they’re not. They are the sābərs that belonged to Khiron. It is rumoured he lifted them of Kagṣān, the majestic eagle. When he died, soaring over the great skies, three of his koyas detached from his body and flew away.’

Killen fell silent for a moment, mulling her words. ‘Where to?’

‘Into the hands of the highest Känon of the land centuries ago,’ the koel told him. ‘His ancestors became their guardians, and today, Koreau, the peace giver, keeps an eye over them. He lives on the far desolate side of Katánē in a giant ash tree, where he communes with powers unknown beyond the veil. He’ll lead you to the axillae, but only after he’s tested you to prove your worth. He’s no lightweight either; second to the now deceased Kíríga, he was the most powerful eagle in the skies and represents wisdom and light. Flapping his sphinx-like wings is believed to cause the khaboob storms on the planet.’

Killen’s hawkstone throbbed, and once more came the vision of a young girl flying towards him. As did the sight of three shimmering lethal koyas aimed at his heart.

He shivered as death danced over his soul. ‘You’re sure the axillae are in the care of this man, Koreau? And if I locate him, he’ll hand them to me?’

Kamilla shrugged. ‘Only if he wills it. He does what he wants and will find you, not vice versa. Until he does, continue to immerse yourself in training.’

Just then, Kamilla leaned into Killen. ‘I need to talk with you. Alone.’

He studied her for a moment, then rose with a nod. ‘Follow me.’

Silence fell amongst the trio left behind as they observed the pair track away.

Killen led Kamilla to a quiet corner of the gardens. ‘Speak your peace.’

‘There’s one more thing you should know,’ Kamilla said, crossing her hands before her. ‘Your mother, K’Elisa, may also want to be privy to what I’m about to share.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It has to do with her mother mother’s, your grandmother, K’Etit.’

Killen inclined his head, eyes intent. ‘I know her name. My mother said she died in mysterious circumstances when she was very young.’

Kamilla nodded. ‘She was a great woman famed for her kindness, beauty and an intense distrust for the spotlight of the court and her marriage. Disliking pomp and circumstance, she often travelled under a pseudonym to escape it all. When K’Elisa was three, K’Etit slipped away on a holiday without an entourage to Kythnia. She took her children and never planned to return to the King. Rumours say she had a lover there. However, word of her anonymous escapade was leaked to her foe, who sent a certain ruthless khōra, k’Uchen, after her. He approached her at her accommodations and sunk a stiletto koya into her chest, and she died. Her youngest child, your mother, was found crying by her side with Kaadiq, then five, watching over her. She was brought back to Katánē for a state funeral, but her assassination on Kythnia only stoked up the fear and mistrust Katánians had for the moon city. K’Etit was charitable and well-liked, a blameless target and as a result of her murder, unrest, shock and mourning swept Kos and reprisals were threatened against Kythnia.’

Killen’s hawkstone blazed. ‘Who ordered her murder? Who was her enemy?’

‘Kalila.’

His eyes widened. ‘Why do you believe that?’

Kamilla gave him a sad smile. ‘I found a holo in our eyrie’s library, hidden in an archive she thought I hadn’t access to. It was from the same Katánian khōra, k’Uchen, confirming he’d done her bidding.’

‘My grandfather was aware of this concerning your stepmother?’

Kamilla shook her head. ‘Nada, he did not.’

Killen cursed under his breath. ‘Why the hell did she do it?’

‘To take out the one person who brought rational thinking to the throne room. Tempest Light listened to K’Etit. She had some sway with him, and he loved her in his twisted way. She encouraged him to speak to the Kythnians; in fact, she was their intermediary.’

‘So the rumours that she had a lover on Kythnia were untrue?’

‘I don’t think so. It was the story Kalila whispered to besmirch K’Etit’s name, to rile up the old King even further against Kythnia and all it stood for.’

Silence fell between them for a moment.

‘Now that you know, what will you do?’

Killen turned to her. ‘What can I do?’

‘You can avenge your grandmother for one. And my father and any other fokkin’ person she’s managed to get rid of in the name of power.’

He raised a brow in surprise at the gritted anger in her voice. ‘You’re encouraging me to kill Kalila in retaliation.’

Kamilla’s eyes were a calm oasis, her jaw set. ‘Naam. Before she slays you.

‘Tis what I’ve come to expect daily,’ Killen grumbled.

‘The woman you see is not Kalila,’ the Koel said with urgency. ‘The one who married my father, cruel as she was, has been replaced by something worse. But it can’t be any old slaying. It has to be a firestorm incision.’

Killen jolted. ‘A what now?’

‘I believe that a particularly nasty node of dark íkan has taken hold of my stepmother’s soul. She leaks it from every pore. It has to be dug out of her. Blading her would let the kízakan she has infested inside her flow out and cause even more harm. The incision has to be followed by scorching, which can only be done, from what I understand, by the wearer of the hawkstone. And the holder of the sacred axillae using a yet unknown íkan spellbinding to flame it out. The searing would kill her, but it’d also stop the miasma she has within her from spreading.’

‘Hotdamnfokkinhellandfeathers,’ Killen cursed. ‘Every freakin’ time I think I’ve got a handle on Katánē, it fokks me right back.’

Kamilla shook his head at his angst. ‘Your return was foreseen. The war to claim the throne, too. It’ll be bloody and flamed, but it’ll be righteous, and you’re the King for it.’

‘Who foresaw me? You?’

‘Naam. Among others.’

‘Any of your visions indicate when I’m meant to take on this righteous war and how I’ll win it?’

Kamilla shrugged.

‘Thought so,’ Killen murmured. ‘I agree we need to be careful with Kalila’s extermination. The hawkstone confirms that her existence has more purpose, as if she’s meant to lead me somewhere.’

‘Ah, the paradox of íkan. To have light, we must have darkness; none can exist without the other.’

Killen huffed and studied the koel for a beat. ‘You’re much more than a mere songbird.’

She gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘For a long time, because of the kind of íkan in me and my natural curiosity, I’ve been drawn to studying a’Chäwi, the use of our ancient esoteric magic for good. I am, in fact, an apprentice of Koreau, in pure secrecy, of course. He sought me out and has been teaching me his ways for some time now. Sending lessons to me via the Kírkos network of merchants and retailers who send me parcels purporting to be dresses or shoes to maintain my reputation as a pampered princess. But I don’t want to be a royal cosseted bystander in Katánē. I need to give back by using my íkan to heal my people. I also embrace the return of tekhnē, just like Koreau does. We are both members of the S’kiə Council that supports you. We have faith in you, for nothing is more dangerous to the rise of the kízakan than a Kíríga who has found the unceasing wellspring of the goodness of the hawkstone. The fact that the most powerful lodestone chose you proves that your heart is in the right place. Which aligns with everything Kaxim and Kione say about you.’

‘Don’t believe a word those two reed-romped bush tyrant smews tell you,’ Killen growled with a gleam in his eye.

She laughed, flicking her eyes to the duo standing a little apart from them.

Killen saw her eyes linger on Kione for a moment.

His Second Armourer clashed eyes with the koel until she snapped her gaze away while he lingered on her.

Killen raised a brow but bit his tongue, tucking away the memory of the silent exchange for a later exposition with his Second Armourer and general.

‘Can you share that holo with me of the khōra confirming K’Etit’s murder?’ he murmured.

Kamilla nodded. ‘I can. What will you do with it?’

‘Verify it and perhaps send it to my mother in due time. She needs to know the truth.’

‘She does.’

‘As for me, you’ve handed me a major dilemma. For there are many who want Kalila dead now and have full right to blade her before I do.’

Kamilla cocked her head. ‘Who else?’

He held back from flicking his eyes to where Sana’a stood alongside Kaxim and Kione in the near distance of the íkhara.

He sensed the Switchblade’s eyes on him and clenched his jaw, unable to meet her gaze. ‘I cannot say right now, but suffice it to know that she has wronged multitudes. One day, all her wrongs will drag her into the underworld.’

‘Keep your secrets, nephew,’ the koel murmured.

He gave her an incredulous look. ‘You’re younger than I.’

‘What of it? I’m still your aunt.’

He chuckled. ‘Sante Kamilla. I sense you’re the cracking aspect of this strange family dynamic.’

‘Kesia too, you can trust her - she’s your mother’s sister-in-law.’

‘Whom I’m yet to meet. Can she be trusted?’

Kamilla nodded. ‘Wholly. She and Kalila are sworn enemies, but she’s a kind woman who’s been more of a mother to me than Kalila ever was. She’s a close ally. So too her husband Kaadiq, your blood uncle.’

‘I look forward to making their acquaintance.’

‘Meanwhile, wait on Koreau; he shall not tarry. And one more thing, where is Kultur?’

Killen’s brow creased. ‘Like we said, he’s away. He often flies from the kíota on business. We’re not intimate, so he hasn’t shared his plans with me. Why?’

Kamilla nodded and took a long breath. ‘Like I said, be careful around him, keep him close, learn what you can from him, but don’t share your deepest thoughts or intentions with him.’

‘Why, if I may insist?’

‘Because we think he is the source of the kírorerô - the omens of potent dark power and prophecy wielded by the arokí. He might be the one who infected Kalila with kízakan at her bequest. We have no proof yet, but much seems to originate from his eyrie, which is worrying.’

The Kíríga narrowed his eyes, pensive. ‘Sante for the heads up.’

‘You’re welcome. Now I must away,’ Kamilla smiled. ‘I have a private dinner to sing at.’

‘Let us not keep you,’ Killen murmured, escorting her to the edge of the kíota.

She donned her mask and unfurled her gilded wings with a slight wave, leaping into the air. Soon, her silhouette was but a speck in the obscure sky.

‘What did she have to tell you?’ Kione drawled, stepping close to Killen as the golden koel winged away towards the glitter of Kos far below them.

‘Of an evil most fowl.’

When the King’s Second Armourer narrowed his eyes at Killen, he gave his commander a wry smile. ‘She shared dark secrets laced with twisted chaos and sheer wickedness. It is amazing how much light she holds when she was brought up around such darkness.’

Kione’s lips twitched. ‘She is luminescent.’

Killen gave his companion a thorough once-over from head to toe. ‘I’d pegged you as a lady’s man. Now I realise you’re a one-woman man.’

Kione flashed his lodestone at Killen and scoffed, a sadness lingering behind his usually joy-filled eyes. ‘I’ve no chance with her. She’s a royal and Kəˈnerē of the highest order. So all I can do is look and never touch.’

‘One day, these archaic customs will need to be scrapped,’ the Kíríga rasped, annoyed.

‘And you’re the King for it,’ Kione threw back. ‘Get to work.’