The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 16: Generals: Section IV: Ashtaroth

Ashtaroth: The Palace: Qemassen

"Atlin has fallen?!" Ashtaroth leaped from his bed and settled into a pace—back forth back forth in front of Cheti. "Are you quite sure?"

Eremus, Ashtaroth's slave and current jailor, rumbled out of Ashtaroth's way to stand flush against the wall beside the door. His bulging muscles made him look like a labourer. The council must have chosen him from Qanmi's stock with defenestrating Ashtaroth in mind.

"Quite sure, Sese." Cheti kept his hands folded, head bowed.

Cold morning light slanted into the room, adding to the chill that spread upwards from Ashtaroth's toes. In bed, it'd seemed like vipers tore at his insides, but they'd disappeared and been replaced by Cheti's bad news.

If Atlin had fallen, where would Lorar next turn its attentions? Everything terrible that Ashtaroth had feared was coming to pass. Couldn't Aurelius see that? Didn't he know? The world was turning upside down and only Ashtaroth seemed able to see it.

Ashtaroth grabbed two of his fingers in his left hand and bent them back. An ache shot from his joints to his fingertips, and he switched to his thumb.

Anything to distract from the seething pain in his back.

"How long did they wait to tell me?"

Cheti looked up. His brown eyes looked like empty bowls. "They didn't, Sese. King Aurelius eq-Eshmunen sent me right away to tell you."

King Aurelius eq-Eshmunen, as though Ashtaroth might have forgotten who their father was.

He scoffed. "But not to invite me to council, I suppose?"

Cheti rubbed his lips together. "No, Sese."

Ashtaroth stretched his hand back, feeling beneath his tunic for the poultice Qirani had made to treat the weeping sore that had opened there. "I was born to save Qemassen from destruction. How can I do that from in here? I'm not mad. I'm not. Tell him to let me out. Tell him I order him to let me out."

"I will, Sese."

Ashtaroth snorted, stopping mid-step. "No, you won't." Or if he did, Aurelius wouldn't listen to him.

Ashtaroth's fingers, where they'd touched the poultice, tingled with oncoming numbness. He wiped the anesthetizing substance off on his robe.

"I promise to tell him, Sese."

Standing beside one of his cluttered tables, Ashtaroth nudged the corner of a scroll with his finger. The urge to overturn the table was almost irresistible. It was irresistible, only Ashtaroth wasn't strong enough to do it.

Maybe he'd order Eremus to topple it—let him flex those meaty shoulders. Let the last of Ashtaroth's life fall away to nothing.

He'd never leave this room. He'd never speak to anyone of import ever again. He'd die in here, surrounded by near strangers and with only the voices of dead poets for company. Them, and Lilit.

Every part of him was cold.

Ashtaroth bit his lip. "But that's fine. Everything's fine."

"Sese?" Cheti inclined his head with an expression very close to concern.

"Leave. You can go. Thank you for relaying my brother's message." Ashtaroth turned away. He walked to the window, waiting for the sound of the door closing before letting out a dry sob.

Outside, a peacock strutted free along a brick wall.

Chaos was upon the city, lingering just out of sight, yet the bird marched on, oblivious, no care in the world but his search for a mate and the patrolling of his small sliver of territory. He didn't know that doom waited beyond the bend.