Ashborn Primordial

Chapter Ashborn 340: Clandestine Gatherings (Three) (Maiya)

Maiya made to enter, but Riyan stopped her.

“What will you do about this?” he asked, gesturing his chin to the ruckus.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Maiya replied with a coy smirk. “Just watch.”

At that moment, a ‘ruffian’ caught sight of the guards, and panicked, pushing the crowd in an attempt to get away.

That, of course, prompted the guards to peel off and follow.

This, in turn, caused a dam to break, and all the ‘thugs’ who’d been ‘fighting’ broke off and split in every direction. The guards gave chase, but were hampered by the crowd.

Not one paid any mind to the door Maiya was standing in front of.

“See?” Maiya said with a grin.

She did so, but when her squad of four motioned to do the same, Riyan raised a hand.

“No. Not them. Only you.”

Their motions were nearly nonexistent, but Maiya caught the subtle repositioning of their arms and the bending of their knees as they braced for combat.

“I think you could spare me a few girls…” Maiya bluffed.

“Hardly a few girls,” Riyan said, calling her bluff. “They are trained. Exceedingly well, from the way they move. They could wreak havoc in here if they so chose.”

Maiya raised an amused brow. “And I can’t?”

Riyan didn’t answer, confirming her thoughts. He still didn’t know that she was the one he fought in Kartara. As far as Riyan was concerned, Maiya had suddenly shown up after years away.

Good. That’ll make this easier, Maiya thought.

But she wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “I could have my people raise more of a ruckus...”

Riyan shook his head. “No, you can’t. They have dissipated and will be fleeing the authorities for some time. Now, you are alone. Alone, and powerless.”

Maiya found herself grinding her teeth despite everything. She’d forgotten how good the man was at getting on her nerves.

“Fine,” she said, dismissing her handmaidens. They hesitated, but she looked them in the eye and nodded. “I’ll be alright. I’ll signal if I need help.”

Riyan raised a brow at that, no doubt wondering exactly how she’d manage such a feat, but he didn’t need to know that Maiya was carrying a communications orb on her. An orb that relayed every word that would be exchanged between her and Riyan to handmaidens stationed at their camp outside the city.

Those words would then be transcribed. For posterity, of course. Definitely not for blackmail. Maiya preferred to call it insurance.

Maiya followed Riyan through a dark, empty hallway, then around a corner, which led to—of all things—a dead-end room with a basic bed, couch, and a few chairs.

“Where have you been all this time?” Maiya asked, figuring she’d make full use of her time with the man. Who knew how much of it she’d have?

“Not here,” was Riyan’s curt response, though whether he’d intended it as an answer to her question, or whether he was telling her that chatting here wasn’t a good idea, she didn’t know.

One of Riyan’s rebels knelt and pulled off the rug that covered the floor, revealing a wooden trapdoor embedded into the floor. The man bypassed the Magic Lock and opened the door.

“Down,” Riyan said.

Maiya peered into the dark hole and shrugged, lowering herself down. She carried with her a dozen orbs of C and B grade, all of which were precharged. If Riyan tried to pull anything, she’d ensure there was nothing left of his little base.

Still, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Even if she took Riyan out, against such numbers, there were no guarantees. Not to mention doing so would make the mission end in failure—let alone the tragic loss of life it’d bring.

Maiya could only pray that Riyan didn’t force her hand.

He won’t, she assured herself. Not when the carrot is this juicy.

The long ladder led down two floors, and at the bottom, Maiya found a bustling hive of activity.

They were unquestionably within the sewers, and yet there was none of the stink that plagued such places.

As Riyan led her down repurposed sewer ways, she found people, bunks, desks, and all the accouterments of daily life. Large rooms that once held sluice gates had been cleaned and converted into mess halls, and sewage holding rooms were now pristine barracks.

“We did a little remodeling,” Riyan said, noticing Maiya eyeing their surroundings. “The sewers were the only place I could realistically fit so many without attracting attention.”

“It couldn’t have been easy,” Maiya said. She didn’t even want to guess how much work it would’ve taken to clean and sanitize such a place, let alone bring in enough Magic Lap orbs to light the place.

“It certainly wasn’t,” Riyan chuckled. “And the cleanup was the easier part. Diverting the sewer flow in a way that didn’t impact the city was an engineering feat and a half.”

“I’ll say…”

Maiya might’ve been talking half out of a duty to break the ice, but she wasn’t sure there was much to be broken. She couldn’t believe how easily they were able to converse. As if it’d only been yesterday that they’d seen each other, when in reality, it had been well over a year.

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The powerfully built man led her through another hall, and into a chamber that was markedly different from the rest.

The lavish rugs that covered the floor, the opulent sofas, mahogany dining table, and dressers, all spoke to a level of refinement that Maiya expected out of Riyan.

Just that it was all horribly out of place in a room that used to be part of the sewer system. If Maiya wasn’t mistaken, there was even a slight fragrance that filled the air. It was quite pleasant on the nose.

“Please, sit,” Riyan said, far more politely than Maiya had expected. Was this a trap? Or was he genuinely happy?

An attendant pulled her chair from the dining table, and Maiya obliged, sitting with every ounce of the etiquette that the Head Handmaiden had drilled into her.

Riyan took a seat opposite her and clasped his hands. “I admit, I did not think I would see you again,” he said at length.

Maiya shrugged. “Fate plays some interesting tricks sometimes.”

“That it does,” Riyan said with a nod.

The conversation faltered, and Maiya’s eyes wandered to the mask that ran down the left side of Riyan’s face.

“Riyan… What happened on that night?”

Though it was partially hidden by his mask, she could tell he’d raised a brow. “I am surprised you know.”

“Really?” she asked. “You were the one who sent me to spy on the Kin’jal, after all.”

Riyan snorted. “I never expected you to join them.”

“I didn’t,” Maiya said reflexively. So Tanya had informed him. But if so, why would he admit her here? Riyan hated Kin’jal.

A chill crept up her spine.

“You didn’t?” Riyan asked, mockingly.

“Well, I did, but I oppose Andros.”

That got Riyan’s attention. He appraised her in silence for a long moment.

“Collateral from my fight with the monster that calls herself Mina Hiranya,” Riyan said, slowly removing his mask.

Maiya had to fight every instinct she had not to gasp.

The left side of Riyan’s face was just… gone. Not merely deformed. Missing entirely. Like something had cut it away. Or eaten it.

“What…” Maiya didn’t have the heart to continue.

“A pet Prana Swarm the princess sought to keep hidden from her father. And everyone else. When I sent Vir, I had accounted for the Artifact that granted her invulnerability. I admit, I had not accounted for this weapon.”

The implications of this shocked Maiya’s entire world.

“You sent Vir to fight her… knowing she had an Artifact from the Age of Gods!?” Maiya couldn’t help it. She felt her blood getting hotter and hotter by the moment. “A suicide mission. You meant for Vir to die fighting her, knowing he had no chance of winning.”

“Wrong,” Riyan said, crossing his arms. “I sent him to fight her, knowing he had no chance of winning.”

“Little difference, don’t you think? Especially with a Prana Swarm at her command, of all things.”

“I never intended to have him fight alone, Maiya,” Riyan said, leaning forward. “The boy was to be bait—someone to keep the Princess and her bodyguard distracted while I came in for the kill. I had a way to defeat her Artifact.”

Maiya ground her teeth. “I suppose that’s how you crippled her.”

The big man leaned back in his chair. “Indeed.”

“Will you continue to pursue her?”

“No,” Riyan said with a shake of his head. “Her fate is worse than death. Stripped of all power, her mind has broken. She will live out the rest of her days a husk of the monster she once was.”

He spoke his words with something Maiya hadn’t expected, but probably should have. Pride.

Maiya had always known of Riyan’s brutality, but seeing the way he talked… He truly was the most dangerous type of person to make enemies of. He was the type that would stew for years—even decades—plotting and planning.

“Why are you here, Maiya?” Riyan asked, finally coming to the point. “And what reason do I have for not sending your head back to Sonam in a box?”

Maiya squelched the horror that was about to rear itself and leveled her gaze at Riyan.

“Because that would only make the man you hate happy.”

“Explain.”

“I’m not working with Andros, Riyan. I’m working with Princess Ira.”

“The very princess you were intended to spy on.”

“Yes,” Maiya said, not backing down an inch. “Because what she wants and what you want are the same, and if you got over your immense ego and saw things clearly, you’d understand that as well.”

“Kin’jals are all the same!” Riyan roared. “Battle hungry, backstabbing warmongers. It is in their blood.”

“If you knew a thing about Ira, you’d know how horribly wrong you are. For example, can you tell me what Ira plans to do, should she ascend to the throne?”

“She intends to launch a coup against her father?” Riyan asked, taken aback.

“Your intelligence fails you, Riyan,” Maiya said, acting as if such a thing ought to be well known. It wasn’t, of course, but it allowed Maiya an opportunity to gain the initiative in the conversation.

“What of it? She’ll simply take up her father’s mantle and invade Hiranya. Better the evil we know.”

“Wholistic cultural reform,” Maiya said.

“What do you mean?”

“She hates what the country has become. The reputation it’s gained. She wants to turn Kin’jal away from expansionism, starting at the very foundation. Instead of extolling combat, she’ll have schoolteachers prioritize the arts, engineering, and trade. Instead of combat tournaments, she’ll host merchant fairs instead.”

Riyan snorted. “The princess is more delusional than I thought. This will never happen.”

“It’ll never happen if no one tries,” Maiya said. “And her success hardly matters to you, doesn’t it? To get the Balarian Guard away from Sonam, she intends to precipitate two uprisings. One in Sai, which, thanks to you, is already well on its way. And another in Hiranya.”

“You mean to have Andros invade Hiranya?” Riyan replied, instantly catching onto the plan. “And you thought for an instant I would go along with this?”

“No, Riyan,” Maiya said with a sigh. “Nobody wants the loss of life that would cause, I assure you. By drawing out Kin’jal’s army to two fronts, Andros leaves Sonam exposed.”

“And that is when your princess will strike.”

“Yes. So you tell me. What will happen when she does?”

“Andros would recall his army,” Riyan said, stroking his beard. “I see. And while they retreat, Hiranya can go on the offense, culling their numbers.”

“Or, you know? Solidify its brand-new king’s rule?”

“You speak of Sanobar, I assume?” Riyan said, looking off into the distance.

“The one and only. He has Ira’s support. He has your approval. He’s capable, and he should be on the throne. We both know he’ll lead Hiranya much better than his father ever could.”

“That, I do not dispute,” Riyan said. “But to oust Rayid for no fault of his own…”

“Really?” Maiya asked, raising her brows. “Really? That man created Mina. Whether through negligence or outright incompetence, she would never have existed without him. A spineless, mediocre ruler can does more damage than a tyrant, you know?”

Riyan fell silent for a long while, eyeing Maiya. “You truly have grown. If only you'd put that mind to Hiranya, instead.”

“I am, Riyan,” Maiya said, returning his state. “Look, you don’t need to believe in Princess Ira. You need only believe that she wants Andros gone, and that she’ll launch a coup of her own. As for what happens after—well, nothing good for Kin’jal. Either Andros is killed and Ira takes the reign, or a civil war erupts. Either way, the country will no longer be a threat to Hiranya. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Princess Ira Kin’jal,” Riyan said, as if testing the taste of the words in his mouth. “I wish to speak with her. In person. I must measure her mettle for myself.”

“You’re serious…”

“I am.”

“Riyan… the whole realm knows just how much you hate Kin’jal. Do you think anyone in their right mind would let you meet with one of their princesses?”

“That is… I see,” Riyan replied, stroking his chin. As far as Maiya could tell, the man was being genuine. But one could never know with this man.

“Very well. I shall prove my allegiance through action. Then, if the princess finds it amenable, we shall meet. Know that I will never help a Kin’jal unless I have assured myself of their character. Tell your princess that I am willing to give her this one chance. Should she deny it, then you had better pray we never meet. For her sake.”

Maiya nearly rolled her eyes at Riyan’s threat. Always with the posturing and the threats. He never changed.

It didn’t matter. All that did was that she’d achieved what she’d set out to accomplish. The first block of foundation had been laid. Now, they had to build the fortress that would sit on top.

“Your offer is acceptable,” Maiya said, fighting to keep the smile off her face. “I’ll let Ira know right away. As for this action you spoke of…”

“Fear not,” Riyan said, his lips curling into a vicious grin. “You will know. When the time comes.”