The Legend of El Shashi by Marc Secchia Read Free Book Online Page A

my mind, ‘Surely no man alive can endure this agony?’ His wounds, his face … what could Jyla possibly want from him? I knew Janos kept secrets–but this? Unthinkable! Nothing, nothing could ever justify the torture of Mata’s own.
    Warily, I faced up to Jyla across the several paces that separated us. My hand rose absently to wipe my mouth, but my eyes were frozen in their sockets. Was she a Sorceress? Only the Eldrik claimed such powers. I simply could not comprehend her presence, here, in this place I had visited uncountable times.
    “What a shame you stumbled into this, you fool,” she said, casting her words like barbed hooks meant to impale. “You cannot possibly understand how important this man is to our cause, or what he has concealed over the anna. These are momentous events, beyond your ken.”
    I wanted to brand her a madwoman, but there was no madness in her now. Cool, rational, her words seared the night. “At least you will die knowing that you have done the Eldrik the greatest service imaginable–indeed, the greatest service in the history of our people. They will proclaim you a hero; they’ll celebrate your name in song. Arlak the betrayer. Arlak, our saviour.” She raised her fingers, clawed into mystic forms, and such was her expression and demeanour that I swear I felt Nethe’s own claws squeeze my neck. “Now, mark my words, I will end this swiftly.”
    “No!” Janos jerked against the nails. Fresh blood bubbled from his lips. By his suffering, he compelled our attention. He repeated, more weakly this time, “No. Have … pity …”
    “Pity? When you had none?”
    “What is done cannot be undone.”
    Jyla spat, “Never!”
    “The greatest magic cannot defeat this doom.”
    “What do you know of magic, you worthless nothing?” she exploded. I cowered, half-expecting the vitriol in her tone to come spitting forth as real acid. “But your kind were there –ah yes, you were there, with Lucan, when he committed that vile offence! And you’ll tell me everything, Janos. Every tiny detail. I won’t let you die before you do, because that would be too easy. And you know I have the power.”
    Janos rasped, “Do your worst, Myki Mahdros .”
    I knew the reference –it was drawn from an ancient Umarite legend, wherein Myki the Snake cheated the Goddess Yuthe of the nectar of immortality, hoping to make himself one of the Gods. Imyni, the Goddess of Hunting, hunted Myki to the ends of the lands and shot him through the heart with one of her burning arrows, thus recovering the nectar. Some versions of the tale, though, claimed that Myki had two hearts and thus cheated death. Why he should mention it now was beyond me.
    Jyla let an amused smile curve her lips upward. “Petty name-calling. Pathetic.” But that smile never touched her eyes. Not even close.
    The effort appeared to drain Janos. He slumped upon his pinions, hanging as a dead thing from a rack.
    “Of course, your protections are powerful, Janos, and it will take time to circumvent them. I’ll break you … eventually. But can I afford the time? The cost?”
    Jyla’s black, dead gaze dismissed him and swivelled to fix on me. I broke off wondering about Janos, afeared now for my own flesh and blood. “But here we have young Arlak. Is he an opportunity granted by the Gods? Ah –” she snapped her fingers, “–I have it now. Yes. I’ll give you the choice.”
    “Me?”
    A squeak. Another time I would have cursed at the embarrassment, but the Sorceress had me in her thrall.
    “You, Arlak. Now listen closely if you wish to save your friend. Here are your choices. You can fight Tortha. Beat him and you win Janos’ life. Or you can fight me. Beat me, and I’ll grant you mercy.”
    Lunacy! I moistened my lips. “These are my choices?”
    “Me o r Tortha. Choose wisely.”
    Suicide either way, or I was no judge. Tortha would crush me. He wore nought but a pair of thexik trousers; in the forge’s blaze, his massively