Aria of the Awakened (The Mindstream Chronicles Book 6) Read online

  Aria of the Awakened

  Book six of The Mindstream Chronicles

  by K.C. May

  Aria of the Awakened

  Copyright 2017 by K.C. May

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This ebook has been magically enchanted by an evil wizard previously thought to be fictitious. Should this book, which is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, fall into the hands of one who did not purchase it, the enchantment will cause noxious flatulence and warts to appear in places no one wants mentioned in public. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  If you like this book soooooooooooooooooooo much that you want to share it with your friends, family, neighbors, grocer, or proctologist, please thank the author by purchasing a gift certificate for each desired recipient at your favorite ebook store so they can get their own copy the legal and proper way.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it from a legitimate source, you might want to start checking for unmentionable warts and people fainting behind you. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work.

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents depicted herein are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Book 6 of The Mindstream Chronicles

  When Gatekeeper Jora Lanseri learns the princess has been convicted by a vengeful enemy of terrible crimes, she must free the delegates trapped in gold statues on the Isle of Shess to trade for the captured princess. Now, with the enemy warships on her heels, Jora must protect the king while negotiating the princess's freedom... and keep the monster inside her from destroying them all.

  The Mindstream Chronicles consists of

  Song of the Sea Spirit

  Call of the Colossus

  Verse of the Vanguard

  Requiem of Reprisal

  Dirge of the Dormant

  Aria of the Awakened

  Cover art by KC May

  Map of Aerta: The Inner Sea Corridor by Jared Blando (www.theredepic.com)

  Map of Aerta: The Mangendan Continent by KC May

  Edited by Carol Scarr (www.pharosediting.com)

  “Ignorance has always been the weapon of tyrants; enlightenment the salvation of the free.”

  ~Bill Richardson

  Chapter 1

  Jora Lanseri paced the length of the hallway, her heavy footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. Despite the beds the grand duchess had provided and the Colossus warriors standing guard, Jora hadn’t slept much in the two days since they’d defeated the Mangendans. Her eyelids were sticky and her thoughts sluggish. Once they were on the ship, sailing home, then she would be at ease. Then she could sleep. For now, pacing kept her awake.

  All but one of the remaining thirty-three Colossus warriors sat or stood, leaning their backs against the walls, and watched her as she stalked by. Arc was inside the conference room with King Gerad. Her friend Adriel sat on the floor beside the newly liberated former Gatekeeper, Cyprianus, but with their heads tipped back and eyes closed, both looked like they were more interested in sleep than the conversation going on in the room. The former dominee and captured fugitive, Ibsa Bervoets, paced as well, her measured steps padding rhythmically up and down the hallway, but she seemed lost in thought, perhaps contemplating how to escape custody. Again.

  Jora paused to press her ear to the door of the conference room. She heard people talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every raised voice, every accusatory tone set her teeth on edge. Frustrated, she resumed her pacing.

  She didn’t distrust King Gerad to negotiate a peace with the top-ranked Mangendans inside, the so-called primes and deputies and adjuncts, but Tosh was with him, still playing the part of Palo Melkachyk. The name warmed her, for it told of her brother’s love and dedication to his original family—his real family, not the one he’d created as part of his ruse—Palo, his son, and Melka, his wife. The Mangendans still didn’t know that their trusted Palo was a Serocian spy and Jora’s long-lost brother. If the truth came out, his life would be forfeit. She couldn’t relax until they were all aboard the ship the grand duchess had promised them, sailing down the river and away from this place. How she longed to spend time catching up with him. He’d have been so proud of the young man his son Palo was becoming before he was cruelly murdered.

  A shouting match erupted within the room. The Colossus warriors who’d been made to wait in the hall with Jora, perhaps to restrain her from barging in, stiffened, their attention locked on the door through which the muffled sounds of the ensuing argument escaped. What were they yelling about? “Gerad needs our help,” Jora said, reaching for the handle.

  Tylia shot out a long, muscular arm and caught Jora across the chest, stopping her. “Archesilaus is within,” the Colossa said. “Should he need our aid, he will call.”

  “Aye, we must heed the king’s command to wait here,” Ludovicus said. Jora scowled at him. Ludo had argued fiercely to be allowed into the meeting, as had Jora. King Gerad had ultimately decided that Arc be the only one of their number to accompany him, Tosh, and the grand duchess inside. He believed the Mangendans would be more receptive to their message if they outnumbered the Serocians. Or perhaps he didn’t trust Jora to maintain a calm, collected demeanor. But if the volume of the voices within was any indication, whatever receptiveness they once enjoyed was lost like a vapor on the wind.

  Heat built in Jora’s chest. She shoved Tylia’s arm out of her way and reached again toward the door handle. “I’m not going to let our king be—”

  “Hark,” Domitius said. His ear was pressed to the wood, and he held up one finger. “I hear laughter. The moment of strife has passed.”

  A discomforting feeling came over Jora—a mixture of anger that she’d lost her chance to burst into the room and set it aflame, and shame in recognizing that she’d wanted to.

  “Diplomacy is a skill I wish I had learned,” Ludovicus said, leaning against the wall opposite the door.

  “It’s more than a mere skill,” Ibsa said as she patted and tucked her hair.

  “Shut up,” Jora snapped. “No one wants to hear your opinion. Why isn’t she gagged?”

  “Diplomacy is an art,” Ibsa went on. “One is either born with the talent for it or one is not. You are not.” Though she was speaking to Ludovicus, she shot a glance at Jora, inferring she lacked the talent as well.

  Ludo snorted, nodding his head. “Aye, I prefer a slit throat to one that voices sentiments unsought.”

  “Someone put a gag on her before I shove my fist down her gullet,” Jora said.

  Cloelia pulled a kerchief from her waistband. She’d worn it during battle to keep her hair out of her face, which meant it was likely caked with dried sweat and perhaps droplets of her enemies’ blood. Jora smiled, thinking how foul it would taste in Ibsa’s mouth.

  Ibsa threw up her shackled hands, clanking the chain between them. “Fine. I’ll keep my unsought sentiments to myself.”

  Cloelia shrugged before stuffing the cloth back under her waistband.

  “But I’ve learned a thing or two about the Mangendans during my brief stay,” the crone added. “Things you might find—”

  “Shut up,” Jora yelled, pressing her ear to the door.

  “All right,” Ibsa said with a sour face. “No need to shout. I’m not deaf, you know.”

  Domitius, facing Jora, also listened at the door, his dark eyebrows k
nitted.

  “I can’t understand what they’re saying. Can you?” she asked him.

  “Nay. The voices come too softly to my ear.”

  “There’s some kind of inscription on the door,” Adriel said, plucking absently at her dark, stubbly hair. “I think it’s meant to obscure the sounds within. I’d offer to counter it, but I don’t know how.”

  Ibsa gave Jora a boastful smile. “I could do that for you, if you’d like.” She pulled on the metal collar around her neck that kept her from activating inscriptions, a suggestion that someone remove it.

  “No,” Jora said, echoed by several of the Colossus warriors.

  The door opened abruptly, and Archesilaus poked his head into the hallway. “Jora, would you send Sonnis into the room with the grand duke’s face? It will help King Gerad convince them of our might.”

  Using the Mindstream, she whistled open the ‘twixt, the space between the two realms of perception, and summoned Sonnis. The ally appeared in his natural form, that of a giant maggot, and immediately changed to his former human form, wearing the golden yellow robe of the elders. Now, she instructed him to mimic the superficies of Grand Duke Natan. Though the grand duke was dead, slain two days earlier, Sonnis easily copied his height, build, and face down to the stubble of his beard at the moment of his death. He wore the same clothes Natan was killed in, minus the blood.

  Arc held the door open for Sonnis to accompany him inside. Jora Observed the ally as he walked up the aisle to the large table in the front of the room.

  More than two dozen men and women seated around it stopped their chatter to watch, many with gasps or quiet oaths. Grand Duchess Bavra looked away, one hand covering her mouth. One man stood abruptly and bowed.

  “Your Highness,” he said. “Forgive us. We were told you’d been slain.”

  “He was,” King Gerad said. “Jora, kindly remove his disguise.”

  Jora instructed Sonnis to revert to his natural form. Though she was still standing in the corridor with the others, the ally heard her command as though she’d whispered it into his ear. Within seconds, he changed from the grand duke, dressed in finery, to a giant maggot with a puckered mouth that sucked at the air like it was blowing kisses. Several people cried out, “Challenge the god!” With his natural form came an intolerable stench.

  “Send it away. Send it away,” a woman cried, waving one hand near her face as if to disperse the odor.

  On Jora’s next command, the ally took the form of the handsome, green-eyed Elder Sonnis, though she let him linger so she could hear the rest of the discussion, knowing his foul smell was also masked by the ally’s disguise.

  Tosh’s voice rose above those expressing disgust and outrage. “Any uprising by the citizens would end in a bloody battle on the streets of Hazred or wherever else the Gatekeeper wishes to go. You saw how many monsters she has under her control. This one fooled even you. Above all else, we must protect our people.”

  “Palo’s right,” a woman said. “We don’t want the blood of our citizens running through the gutters.”

  “What would Grand Duke Natan do?” an elderly man asked, a warble in his voice. “Would he stand for this? No. He would stand up and fight these invaders, to the death if necessary. Have you forgotten who we are? We are not the lamb. We are the lion.”

  “The grand duke isn’t here,” Gerad said. “You have a unique opportunity to redefine your country and its place in the world. Do you want more of what you had, a tyrant who accepted no counsel, or a fair leader who’s strong yet compassionate?”

  “I agree with the king,” a man said. “We must consider this offer well. Without the guidance of a single leader, we must come to an agreement amongst ourselves. I, for one, vote in favor of King Gerad’s plan. Are you with me?”

  The room erupted in a chorus of “Aye.”

  “Any opposed?”

  “Nay,” the old man said. “By the god’s bloody fists, nay.”

  “The ayes have it. The motion passes.” A few people applauded, though their enthusiasm left much to be desired.

  “This is outrageous. Traitors, all of you. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “I know this makes you uncomfortable,” King Gerad said. “But if you weigh both sides, you’ll see they’ve chosen the better option.”

  “I won’t stand for this,” the old fellow said. He slapped what looked like a gold badge on the table in front of him. “I resign my commission here and now and pledge to take my message to the streets. By the Challenger’s word, I will rouse the citizens of Mangend to take up arms against the traitorous lot of you for siding with our sworn enemy.”

  Several people gasped. Two men spoke at the same time, both condemning the man for his remarks.

  “And after subduing the greatest, most powerful country in the world, you’ll continue keeping the Tree of the Fallen God to yourself as before,” the old man said. “This is an outrage. The people will not abide this ludicrous proposition.”

  “Look,” Gerad said, “we offered to share it with you, and we were attacked for it, our city besieged. Your commander bombed the palace—my home. It will take many months and quite a lot of money to repair the damage you wrought, not to mention the deaths caused by your act of aggression. Truth be told, I feel I’m being very generous in handing control of the country back to you, the very people who supported the grand duke’s decision to commit those atrocities.”

  “It was his decision alone,” another man said softly. “Most of us were against it and tried to reason with him, but he would hear none of it.”

  “Aye,” said a woman, fingering the blue scarf around her neck. “We did not support the decision to loose the Krykon nor attack Serocia. His mind was made up.”

  “It’s true,” the grand duchess said. “I, too, tried to divest my husband of the notion. He wouldn’t even hear arguments to the contrary. He would not be swayed.”

  Jora chewed the inside of her cheek. If that was true, then Serocia had no further quarrel with Mangend. She and her friends could return home and start the long process of rebuilding the wrecked palace. Distantly, she wondered how many bodies they would pull out of the rubble. Hadrian, one of the Colossus warriors, had sacrificed himself to save them all. It was entirely likely servants and custodians had gone into hiding when the Mangendans invaded. There was no telling how many dead there were.

  “I would like to revisit the equitable distribution of godfruit to you and your people,” Gerad said, “but I must be confident you won’t use my desire for peace against me as the grand duke did. Let’s speak of the matter again in one year. If you have not aggressed against Serocia in that time, then I’m sure we can come to an agreement that will make both of us happy.”

  “What about the Void?” asked a woman Jora recognized as Vilma Onyks, the prime witness. “Our witnesses are blind to it. Will you release the magic that restrains us?”

  The Void? Jora wondered. She supposed everyone had their own name for the Mindstream, but The Void?

  “According to the Gatekeeper,” Gerad told his audience, “the Spirit Stones provide access to the Mindstream—the Void, as you call it. We restored the Spirit Stone.”

  Several people spoke at once, asking what he meant by that and how it was done.

  “Minister Jora,” the king said, “please tell them what you know about the Spirit Stones.”

  Jora told Sonnis to bow and to say aloud everything she whispered. Through the ally, she told them the tones sung by Spirit Stones every day comprised a speech or a lecture that explained the nature of the world and the forces the people considered magical—the inscriptions drawn by scribes, the god’s blood used by the concord, and the minions tamed by the gatekeepers. When the three of them, Scribe, Concord, and Gatekeeper, combined their abilities to free the trapped dolphin from its stone prison, it had declared that their purpose was revealed.

  “What purpose?” someone asked.

  “It didn’t say,” Gerad said. “I hope
we learn their purpose when we restore the others.”

  Several people murmured their surprise at his revelation that they planned to restore the rest of the trapped dolphins.

  “The gods gave us this gift, and you wish to destroy it?” asked a wrinkled old woman.

  “What gives you the right to eliminate people’s ability to use the Void?” a man demanded, pointing at King Gerad.

  Gerad looked the man squarely in the eye. “The god, himself. We did this at Retar’s urging.”

  That shut them up.

  “Thank you, Minister Jora,” Gerad said. “You can dismiss your ally now.”

  “Sonnis, bow to King Gerad,” she said. When he complied, she dismissed him. Once again, she was as blind and deaf to what was going on in the room as her hallway companions were.