The Hytharo Redux: Book One Of The First Hytharo by Jonathan Weiss

Author:Jonathan Weiss [Weiss, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Helixic Books
Published: 2023-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter nineteen

An Honoured Guest

Apex Shiro led Grethard and Spiric’s ascent, the sound of his clanking armour almost drowning out the ringing nerves growing in Spiric’s ears. Down below, a small amphitheatre sat in the place of the last landing. It curved between the bases of the two pillars, each row looking down at the marble-slabbed clearing in the archway. The seats were jammed with robed spectators, their circulating murmurs breaking rhythm as they noticed the newcomers.

Their fresh and youthful faces began to twist into fruitless squints, and the attention made Spiric’s guts lurch. Was he supposed to put on a show for them? The amphitheatre’s clearing formed a perfect circle, almost completely deserted like a waiting stage, half of which stretched beyond the palace’s shaded bounds as a grand balcony. The morning sun drenched this outer portion, making the marble almost blinding to look at.

Impatient and impertinent whispers reached Spiric’s burning ears and he clenched his jaw. His hands twitched at his side as they passed through the crowd, aching to rip off the glasses and glare at those who were set to doubt him.

As they reached the bottom row he took a deep breath, his heart still throbbing. This pre-emptively injured pride wasn’t his.

It’s nothing but a memory.

Across the clearing was a small stone dais, surrounded by a crumbling wall of stone that was only knee high. It held a pool of sand, a sheet of stone rising through it, upon which sat Voss-Ela. She lounged in one of her treasured wooden chairs, the shade cloth positioned over it being her only mercy from the battering sun. She waved a single hand out from under the canopy, sunlight flashing her bright skin impossibly white, and the crowd crumpled into an unwilling silence.

Spiric felt a small nudge at his shoulder. He thought it was Grethard, yet the old man was already wedged in among the gathered crowd. It had come instead from Apex Shiro and its meaning was clear. He was to go alone.

The murmurs returned with a vengeance as Spiric walked towards the dais.

‘—just a boy? Basarod’s streets are filled with boys like that!’

‘—has to be political, a prince or some other kind of—’

‘—the one Greely got dragged away to work on? I’ve not seen him since…’

Voss-Ela motioned her hand again, but she’d lost power over her audience. Another wave. Still no effect. Her wrist fell limp in frustration, mustering one last effort to flick in the direction of Apex Shiro.

‘BE SILENT!’

His piercing roar made the ground beneath them tremble. Now, not even a whisper dared disobey. Spiric had stopped dead in his stride, half his body still in the shadow of the colossal archway, half beginning to prickle in the harsh sun as he regarded the quelled gathering. An expectation was written across their faces that teetered on the cusp of dissatisfaction. He looked back to Voss-Ela, and she lazily motioned him forward.

The sudden vastness of the sky above made Spiric unsteady on his feet. In the dim shadow that hid Voss-Ela’s face, he could tell this was exactly the effect she desired.

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