The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

THE LAST STOP

Their world had shattered into a thousand shards the moment Toluer had found them, Sapphire knew that much. It had tilted off balance and fell till it crashed with no one to save it. Perhaps they had been doomed ever since Kapok, perhaps they had been delaying the inevitable. Death always had a strong clutch.

No one spoke. It was quiet in the iron wagon they had been trapped in, sitting ducks, trapped like animals for an exhibition. For all its grandeur and beauty, Sapphire loathed Coler. This would be the place of her death. She would be beheaded she knew, her head would roll out and her blood would claim the streets till it was washed and licked away by the stray dogs. A grave was not written in her fate. She'd go unmarked in death, with a taint on her name. She would die a traitor's death. All for a crime she hadn't committed. All for being a VannØrn. If they wanted to get out alive, they'd have to make their escape quick.

She heard the bustle of the market, the shouts of vendors, the orders yelled by the guards and the ringing of bells of a herald rushing past. She daredn't lift her head. She could not bring herself to look at the people's faces as they ogled at them in the streets.

"Hoist the waterway! Let the barrage rise!"

Her gaze lifted. She could not look away for all that she tried. The castle rose grey and white against the clear sky, sitting between a wide glittering expanse of water that for a moment, under the evening sun, turned to a neverending swathe of blood before it melted into gold as the waves splashed against the rocks. The moat itself would be as wide as eight leagues wide. The rock on which the Kingsgate Citadel had been built was an extensive structure of jagged ends and nests of wild birds and to Sapphire, it seemed as if someone had taken one of the Bathran mountains to construct the palace. A mist swam around the base.

Sapphire's eyes followed a trail of crows rising into the air, cawing and shrieking. She had never felt as cold as she did then.

She turned away. Lysander's eyes were trained at the sky the entire time as if he could not bear to lower his gaze and observe the city he had taken his first breath in. Maybe he was praying, Sapphire did not know. She had to get her plan to work.

Toluer barked out his orders in a sharp voice and accompanied them as the carts were led across the bridge, the wheels screeching across the pale brocks beneath them. They were chained and led through the courtyard when the carts finally stopped. Sapphire had always heard of the magnificence of Falargimea's palace and court, and if, at that moment, she wasn't being led to the dungeons, she would have appreciated the high rising walls and turrets, the moat surrounding the land and the exotic variety of birds milling about in the clear water.

It was magnificent.

They were led past the arched stoneway, the bars of the gates disappearing into the stone like teeth of a wolfhound. The sides of the archway were flanked by two ivory statues of eagles with their wings spread wide and encasing the vaulted entrance. They were embossed and carved with intricate detail, each feather formed with the highest perfection. Two aquamarines, as wide as a soldier's shield were set in the sockets of their eyes and when the sun caught on them, they gleamed bright as a thousand stars, blinding her so that she had to turn away her head.

The servants milling around the courtyard parted like water, heads bowing when Toluer passed them and then craning their necks to get a better look at the prisoners who had been captured. Whispers broke out like hisses of fires all over the place. Someone shouted something. Sapphire couldn't make out the words. Her eyes travelled to the five flags flapping lightly in the air. The orange red flag of the VannØrn was absent. There was no phoenix amid the cluster of sigils.

It made her lose her breath. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach and then landed a blow to her chest. VannØrn were a sept found only in Falargimea. This was their end. This was their extinction. When she was younger, she had thought the bards exaggerated their tales of The War of Faranthemies. She thought they had coloured the events over the centuries. Thought the blood feud between the VannØrn and the Borskalle was perhaps not as grim as it was sung about. She was wrong. She had been wrong about so many things.