Crowned (Beholder #4)(37)

Not-Elea straightened the lines of her long purple robes. “I can access hybrid magick.”

The Sire’s gray eyes narrowed to slits. “Hybrid power is forbidden.”

Not-Viktor gestured around the meadow. “But you created these gateways with hybrid power. Surely, we don’t have to die to maintain it.”

“Only one of you has to die,” said the Lady. “But if you both choose to make the sacrifice, the arches will be that much stronger.”

Another gateway lit up with purple brightness. This time, a figure in long bronze robes stepped out. Whoever it was, they were carrying the Sword of Theodora by the hilt, the blade pointed down. The robe’s hood hung low, so I couldn’t see the newcomer’s face. Still, there was something solid and unyielding in their stance.

“Your executioner is here,” said the Lady.

My throat constricted with anxiety. No wonder this figure appeared so foreboding. One day, whoever this was would come for me as well.

“Make this easy on yourself,” added the Sire, his voice deep as thunder. “Sacrifice willingly. That way, it won’t hurt so badly. For you…” He gestured to the Zaidi. “Or for them.”

Not-Elea’s shoulders stiffened. “You wouldn’t hurt the Zaidi.” Behind her, all the warriors strung their bows, pointing the arrows straight at the Sire and Lady. Neither of the deities so much as flinched with worry.

“We never hurt anyone,” explained the Lady. “The executioner does.”

Not-Viktor gripped Not-Elea’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. Do not do this.”

Not-Elea shook off his touch. “If I agree to this sacrifice, will you allow the Zaidi to live?”

The Lady smiled sweetly. “You have our word.”

Not-Elea nodded and then knelt before her executioner.

After that, things happened so quickly, it was hard to keep track. Not-Viktor lunged for the executioner, ready to attack. The figure in bronze moved with supernatural speed, running the Sword of Theodora straight through Not-Viktor’s chest. A burst of purple light shone out from the spot. Not-Viktor screamed in agony.

“See?” asked the Sire. “When you’re unwilling, it’s far more painful.”

For a full minute, cries of agony echoed across the meadow. Then Not-Viktor fell over, dead.

Next the executioner turned to Not-Elea. My almost-double stared at the dead body beside her on the ground. “Say it again. You won’t touch the Zaidi. You won’t harm anyone else I love.”

I gasped with recognition and fear. Those words reminded me of Petra’s message. “When you disobey the gods, this is what happens to those you love.”

How many times had the Sire and Lady blackmailed someone like me into allowing themselves to be killed? A ball of rage tightened inside me.

“We give you our word,” intoned the Sire.

Not-Elea bowed her head. “Then I am ready.”

One of the Zaidi stepped forward. “You can not do this.” My eyes widened as a recognized this young warrior.

It was a younger version of Kila Kitu.

Not-Elea gave him a sad smile. “You can’t stop this. No one can. And I need you alive. Help the next martyr, so long as he or she is worthy.”

The young Kila Kitu shook his head. “I can’t.”

“I am your creator. You owe me your life and fealty.” The words Not-Elea spoke were harsh, but there was no anger behind them.

The young Kila Kitu hung his head. “I will do as you command.”

“Move on with the ceremony,” said the Lady.

“Wait,” said Not-Elea. “I want all the Zaidi safely away first.”

Grumbling sounded from the small company of warriors, but the Sire spoke in such a thunderous voice, they quickly silenced. “The sacrifice is correct. You may go.” The Sire pointed to a nearby gateway, which flared with pale purple light. One by one, the Zaidi marched off the Meadow of Many Gateways. The younger version of Kila Kitu was last in line.

When the last of the Zaidi were gone, the executioner raised the Sword of Theodora. The blade seemed to move in agonizingly slow motion as it was brought down on Not-Elea’s neck. Another flash of purple light appeared, just as when not-Viktor was killed, only brighter. Not-Elea instantly fell over, dead. There were no marks on her body. She hadn’t even gasped, let alone screamed.

Somehow, that felt worse than how Not-Viktor died. At least, that was a real murder with agony and magick. This painless death seemed to mask the loss.

Beside me, Kila Kitu stirred. “I must end the vision now.” His voice shook with emotion.

He’d loved his Elea.

“Please,” I said. “I know this is hard for you, but I must see how the gateways take in magick.”

Kila Kitu nodded. In the scene before us, a gateway flared to life once more. The younger Kila Kitu rushed back out from the arch, his body bright with purple light and hybrid magick. I popped my hand over my mouth. What Kila Kitu could do with his hybrid power was just what I’d hoped for. His younger self had reactivated the gateway with ease.

The younger Kila Kitu raced toward the executioner, his speed enhanced by magick. Quick as a whip, the young Kila Kitu grabbed for the Sword of Theodora. At the same time, a cloud of purple mist enveloped them both. I’d seen that particular kind of swirling haze before. The younger Kila Kitu was casting a transport spell.