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Torn God: Watcher of Deep Places (Web Novel) - Book 5: Chapter 7 Forced Negotiation [Part 1]
Book 5: Chapter 7 Forced Negotiation [Part 1]
This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl
The weak must pretend to be strong, and the strong must pretend to be weak.- The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.
The doors opened with a low, satisfying creak as Farzan’s men, clad in armor that glinted like polished silver under their proud purple sashes, allowed me through without question. They knew me, knew well enough where my loyalties lay.
"You wished to see me?" I muttered, my voice gruff as I stepped into Lady Aelayah’s reception hall.
The walls were a cool marble blue, painted with intricate, twisting sea creatures. Water trickled down the slick surfaces in rivulets, lending the impression that we were submerged in some grand underwater cavern. The air was chill, damp with a fine mist, as if the ocean itself had settled within the room.
Lady Aelayah sat poised, a thick, leather-bound tome resting in her lap. When her gaze rose to meet mine, those unnerving eyes of hers seemed to pierce right through me. A faint, silent sigh escaped her—barely audible, more felt than heard.
"I would offer you a seat," she said, her smile a thin, brittle thing, "but I fear you might ruin it."
Her words held a knife’s edge, a subtle sharpness that was unmistakable. I waited, saying nothing, letting the silence stretch like a taut bowstring. Silence, I had learned, could speak volumes if wielded and cultivated correctly.
Aelayah was the one to break it. "I’ve heard rumors… that you intend to venture into the storm?”
“Then you’ve heard true,” I replied. “And word does travel fast in these halls.”
Her brow arched slightly. “Is this… related to the barbarian’s death? We’ve done all we could—"
I looked down at her. “It is and it isn’t.”
“Then—”
“Let me finish, woman!” My voice rose, sharper than I’d intended, and she recoiled, a flicker of fear crossing her face. I’d forgotten how young she was, despite her lofty title.
I softened my tone. “Apologies. I only meant to say, I am going alone to the Adventurer’s Guild. I have a score to settle and, if fortune favors, I will rid the city of at least one of the enemy’s pieces on the board.”
"By all means," she replied, her voice edged with sarcasm, though there was a tremor beneath it. "Enlighten me.”
“Sarcasm does not suit you, Lady,” I said with a touch of mocking formality. “It robs you of your beauty.”
Her expression shifted, an uneasy blend of flattery and insult warring on her face. But I continued, pressing forward before she could dwell on it.
“I intend to blackmail the Guildmaster into single combat. And, if possible, kill Kaila the Enchantress. She is a threat—not just to Salahaem but to the city itself, a threat on a level none here seem to appreciate.”
Lady Aelayah's expression turned incredulous. “The Silver Mirage? You think her power is that… considerable?”
“So that is what she calls herself now.” I scoffed. “It matters little. Her powers twist the minds of others, a perversion of free will itself. I would wager she is behind much of the Council’s scheming, a puppet master hidden in plain sight.”
Aelayah’s face was drawn, her eyes calculating as she weighed my words. The air seemed colder, thicker somehow, as if the very walls of this watery room held their breath, waiting for what was to come.
"Then I will not hinder you in your task," Aelayah said, her tone measured but carrying a note of caution. "Still, I must warn you, we don’t know how long until the storms return. To be caught outside when they do… it would be a death sentence, even for you." Her voice softened, a hint of concern slipping through. "There are things in that storm…”
“I appreciate your concern,” I replied, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “But I will manage.” I paused, letting the weight of the moment settle before I continued, “Now, as time is of the essence…”
She inclined her head, granting permission with a subtle, almost weary nod. Her lips curved in a faint, melancholic smile, and something about it struck me—a farewell, perhaps, unspoken yet unmistakable.
*****
I made my way through the empty streets, the echo of my own footfalls a loud counterpoint to the soft susurration of the wind. Every door and window was shut tight, the wood nailed down, splintered in places from the brutal storm that had raged through the city. Here and there, the damage was stark—fountains cracked open, spilling water into the sandy streets like blood from a wound; vendor crates tossed and broken, splintered fruit and smashed pottery littering the ground; shards of glass glinting.
The sight that stopped me, though, lay just beyond the reach of the shadowed alley. A corpse, little more than bone, flesh stripped away and polished smooth by the relentless fury of sand and wind. The storm had stripped it down to its barest state, every scrap of flesh taken by the storm’s rage, leaving it exposed, raw, a grim warning. Would my armor be enough against its full force?
I pushed forward, my steps heavy, the weight of my mission pressing down on me. Sand crunched underfoot, gritty and fine, somehow working its way into everything.
As I neared the Adventurer’s Guild, a strange sensation prickled over my skin—a sound, no, a whisper in the air. Faint as a dying ember, but there, soft and haunting, a melody brushing past my ears like the ghost of a half-remembered tune. It drifted in on the wind, threading itself around me, familiar yet distant, as if calling from a place just out of reach.
I frowned, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife at my waist. That melody… it was like a thread pulled from memory, woven through with something both familiar and unsettling.
There was a hint of something else too, the smallest hint of the narcotic Dust. It laced the air, diluted a thousandfold by the scale of the storm. It was a reminder that this year’s harvest of the substance was all but destroyed.
The Adventurer’s Guild loomed ahead, the heavy doors of the main building weathered and scarred. I paused, the melody still lingering, whispering a final note before it faded entirely. Whatever it was, I would have to leave it for later.
I had business within.
I knocked on the thick doors, which creaked in protest at each strike. Hearing a whisper from within, I paused. Just as I considered breaking the door down, it swung open as if reading my intent.
“What are you doing out there? Get in, quick!” a woman’s voice urged. “If you’re caught outside, the storm will shred you to ribbons!”
I lifted the visor of my helm to see more clearly. It was the Guild clerk, Aldina. She looked much the same as I remembered, though the years had added a touch of color to her freckled face.
“Well?” She snapped, hands on her hips as she gestured impatiently. "Don’t just stand there letting the sand in!"
I stepped inside, feeling the gritty remnants of the storm settle behind me as Aldina shut the doors with a swift motion. Her stance was firmer than I remembered, her voice commanding in a way it had not been when I’d last seen her. It seemed the years had not only been kind to her looks but had also gifted her a sharper tongue—and perhaps the hint of a backbone.
