House Shivashi - Blood for Blood

Authors Note: This the third part of House Shivashi. I hope you have enjoyed the story and characters. It has been a pleasure to pour so much into creating them. All sexual activity is performed by those 18+, even though there's no sex in this part.

I welcome all constructive feedback and responses. Thank you, and enjoy

***

Day 7

I barely remembered falling asleep. So tranquil was the time spent with Ghiva and Arua, the dream of living the Folded Path was all that concerned me. As the early morning light slipped through the crack in the blinds of the Master Bedroom, I took a deep breath. I absorbed how good it felt to have my companions, warm and wonderful inside me.

Even though the events of the forthcoming day promised to be taxing and unpredictable, I knew in my heart I was now in the best place possible to attempt our thought-out plan. Everything was ready, including me. It was time to get prepared.

The bath was pleasant and long, the knock at the bedroom door letting me know that food had been brought up. As I toweled off and opened the door, I saw a tray of eggs, potatoes, and meat strips on a lap tray. Two packages wrapped in brown paper were close by. One was a small, thumb-sized package, the other as long as my forearm.

I nodded and brought the tray laden with food and the packages into the room, setting them all on the bed and sitting down. As my hair dried in some twisted towels atop my head, I ate with slow appreciation while staring at the wrapped presents.

I knew, without a doubt, they were what I had sent Skav after.

He came through, just like I knew he would. That means, the rest is already in motion.

I finished my breakfast and then slipped into the bathroom with the small package, finishing my grooming preparations. I approached the wardrobe after my hair was dry, seeing my chocolate brown, three-piece suit hanging there as though it was waiting to be put on.

I nodded and slowly drew on the pants, the fabric so soft and flowing today. My white shirt came next, slowly buttoning it up from the bottom and leaving the top one undone and open. One arm at a time I eased the blazer over my shoulders, rolling the collar down and ensuring the layers of my outfit were perfectly placed.

"Ok, Master Shivashi," I said into the lady in the mirror, nodding as my amethyst eyes sparkled in the morning light. "Time to put on a show."

I stepped into my comfortable shoes and exited the Master Bedroom, closing the door then stepping purposefully down the flights of stairs. I passed the faded outline where Havaan Shivashi's portrait used to hang, the image of her detailed statue down below the manor softly imposing itself on the wall. I stopped and regarded her posture and poise, the owl-like grimness in her eyes stating everything her firm presence did not.

I am a Shivashi. My word is law. Come and claim what is yours, or be claimed in the failure. The world will move on without you.

I gave a polite nod to Havaan's memory, taking the rest of the stairs down to the foyer. Ghiva stepped out from the kitchen to greet me as I touched it.

"Morning to you, Master Shivashi. I trust you're prepared for the day?"

"I am, Ghiva, well and truly," I said, turning toward her and bowing. "Thank you for your service today. You do me and this house great honor."

"My pleasure and honor to serve, Master Shivashi," Ghiva hummed, offering a respectful bow in return.

"I have thoroughly considered your desire to become my Pillar, Ghiva. I believe our time to join together will be soon, just not yet," I said, giving Ghiva a gentle, knowing smile. "I hope you understand."

"I do, indeed, Master Shivashi. Our time is coming, of that I have no doubt in my mind," Ghiva responded, her earthy smile kind and hopeful. "Until then."

"Until then," I returned, turning and walking toward the front door and out into the middle of a rising morning.

I climbed into the travel carriage and the driver eased us out onto the road, turning east toward Arlia and the destiny that awaited me there.

***

The art of a good con never relies upon the factors you can't control, rather those you can foresee and can adapt to. The true test of your ability comes in the testament left behind by your mark, the choices you made and how they are reacted.

The first thing you can count on are your own actions and responses, the backbone of what you plan to do and are willing to commit action for. The next thing, if you are wily enough, is the knowledge of your quarry and what they are capable of.

Though harder to quantify, it's not impossible to predict. Everyone moves in patterns, no matter how well-kept their secrets. I'd seen my share of the tactics this particular challenger had to offer already, absorbing the subtleness and guile of a very impressive quandary. I would happily honor their playful game by bringing forth the best of mine.

Surprise was one thing, absolute flat-footed disadvantage was another. Moira would learn the difference. I am nothing if not a quid-pro-quo equalist, or an eye-for-an-eye avenger. I don't find either term mutually exclusive.

As the carriage pulled to a stop outside the walls of Arlia I stepped out, my grip firmly on the door. I reached in and took my sturdy wooden crutch off the bench, putting one foot in front of the other while leaning heavily into it.

Arlia's gate was just far enough away to get my mind straight on what had to happen, setting my limp and grimacing as tactfully as possible. A certain string of events were about to take place, each with their own purpose and timing. If I did it right, a special kind of fireworks would be going off just after noon.

Watch this performance, every one of you.

Slowly walking through Arlia was a sobering experience, since the populous hadn't seen me since my interrogation by Moira. Every pair of eyes that saw me stopped whatever they were doing, an aghast gasp of grim understanding present each time. Conversations abruptly ended and tasks paused to witness Master Shivashi, heiress of the Shivashi bloodline, brought low and subdued.

No hand came to guide me, no questions of health or if I needed help, as groans of pain filtered out through my lips. The people simply stared, unwilling and unable to do anything. They were all aware that the ire of House Ciav had been placed upon me.

The promises I had once assured with the pomp of head-strong bravado had been turned back on me, becoming the symbolic tar-and-feathering of an outcast ne'er-do-well.

Moira had been right. The best example was living and walking, a warning to all who would challenge the might of House Ciav on display for all to see.

As I rounded the corner toward Arlia Trust and Savings, I caught sight of Teruose staring at me out of the window. His slimy grin paired grinch-like with his tight and narrow eyes, the slow draw of the curtains inside becoming a smug shun as corrupt business continued unabated.

With a slow turn of my head I saw Heron Genrish, the young man climbing a ladder outside the financial establishment, Genrish and Sons. Steady hands reached up and removed the old wooden placard above the door, replacing it with a much nicer one edged in shiny, sunrise-colored gold. The seal of Arlia was down on the bottom right of its trophy-like display, House Genrish now a recognized family with all rights and privileges due to them.

As Heron reached down into his tool bag, he caught sight of me limping by. Kind eyes suddenly turned a shade of shameful betrayal, his families' advancement caught in my amethyst gaze. A whimper, so soft and honest, left his lips. I was yards away, struggling to make it down the road, and still the sound was heart-breaking.

An apology was written loud in Heron's eyes. It was the way of things, just one more step the people of the Western Reaches had to take to survive. I couldn't blame the Genrish family for what had transpired, trading my sought-after family account back to House Ciav for patronage. I didn't fault them, or anyone else, for what they'd done.

The Path wasn't easy this far to the West, and perhaps it never would be. However, today they would be given a choice. Greater than air and gold, it would sing with unbridled potential.

I eased through the milling on-lookers, taking a timed bad step and dropping to my knees in the middle of the road. A hard whimper left my lips as I reached down and grabbed my right knee, clenching my eyes tight as pain shivered my leg. A few of the nearby people gasped and took a step closer. Sudden apprehension gripped their features, their helpful motion retracting in fear of retribution.

Oh, my people. It's worse than I thought,

I kindly observed, a very real note of sadness bubbling up from my heart.

I'm so sorry this has happened to you. I'll make it right, I promise.

A shadow loomed close and I looked up into the face of Heron, watching him kneel down and take my arm in assistance. I knew that everyone who saw it would only mark him as an ally, thus subsequently punishing him and his family.

"Heron, no, you don't have to," I started, trying to brush him off. "Please, this is-"

"The right thing to do," Heron whispered, helping me to my feet and ensuring I was properly supported by my crutch. "They can't do anything to me they haven't already done. Our family survived without House Ciav's and Arlia's favor before. If it comes to it, we can do so again."

A silvery tear of thanks slipped from my left eye, grasping Heron's shoulder. "You are a good man. Never think anything less, no matter how far down you get pushed. No one can take the heart of your character away."

A soft frown creased Heron's brow. "You are in danger here. Arlia and Gar-O-Nitao are abuzz with your house's fall. House Ciav, they've-"

"Alright, that's enough," came the gruff tone of one of Arlia's soldier protectorate, stepping close and interrupting. "Move along, both of you."

I locked amethyst eyes with the guardsman who had spoken up, setting him with a knowing glance that made him take a half-step back. Something kin to feral acknowledgement bridged between us. The subtle press and power, something greater and more primally aware than him, made his throat bob with a swallow.

"I said, move along," the guard repeated, right hand slipping down to the handle of his sword on his hip. "Complete your business, then leave as soon as possible."

"Alright, I'm going," I gruffly retorted, turning a kind gaze to Heron before stepping outside of his comforting presence. "I won't stay long. Just need to gather a few things."

"Make it quick. You have until noon, then you'll be escorted out," the soldier ordered, his hand moving away from the hilt of his blade. "Your family isn't welcome in the Western Reaches."

"Not anymore," I softly hummed.

I waved the guard off with a gesture of my hand, continuing into the northern part of Arlia. I didn't look back at Heron, for it would only cause him more grief. The distance was necessary, for both our sakes. He couldn't be close, not yet.

I eased around the corner and found the familiar cutaway leading down into the darkness. I grabbed the firmly entrenched railing as I painfully eased down the sturdy stairs, holding tight to my crutch with my right as I clung to the smooth bannister with my left. My eyes watched every step while I kept awareness of curious passers-by, as carefully and constantly as possible.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw that the wooden door and sturdy archway leading down into Gro-Shuma's den had been torn apart. Vicious clawings and dents in the stone wall behind it were paired with the broken planks and chipped stone scattered beneath it, as though it had been torn apart in search of something.

Whatever it was they assuredly didn't find. I was almost positive of that.

As I painfully kneeled down and swept away the gravel pieces, my eyes started identifying the splintered planks of wood and their broken counterparts. With slow purpose I started at the bottom and patiently rebuilt the door, slipping each piece into its proper place down in the silence of that dank crevasse of rock.

There's something no one ever tells you about true faith, a secret I will reveal to you now. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean you can't feel it. I used to think each belief system was watched after by a benevolent deity, something with the divine power to right injustices and punish evil-doers.

Other times I thought faith was kind grace and a warm embrace, the perfect feeling of oneness and welcome. A rare thing to witness, even more difficult to attain.

My belief has changed now, for better or worse. The secret changed me, as did the spirit that had been reborn in its wake. Faith was a mindset and a choice. Like all things, it could be formed and rebuilt with the right tools.

After the purple door had been reconstructed, I reached up and gently knocked three times upon its cracked, haphazardly-connected surface. I stared at the faint red star amidst the colored paint, waiting as the long seconds ticked by, until I heard a soft click of a lock. The door opened and swung inward toward the darkened cavern beyond, unbreached by any man-guided inquisitions.

I stepped in and closed the door behind me, easing down the flight of short steps beyond onto the white sand-covered pathway. I cautiously followed the path as it wended downward around the corner to the right. A pastel-colored rug covered in beautiful scales beneath a solitary chair revealed itself, a yellow candle quietly burning on a small table posted next to it.

I sat down upon the offered chair, removing my shoes. I smiled and rubbed my toes against the texture of the rug before standing up, moving through the beaded curtain. The beads harmoniously rang with a dull tone as they came in contact with each other, my smile widening at how soothing and perfect it was.

Ritual and faith were linked and melded together, hand-in-hand like lovers and friends.

Faint sunlight beamed down into the small, dome-like cavern beyond, the smooth stage to the right supporting Master Gro-Shuma's coiled snake bulk. His smooth yellow face was pointed skyward and his eyes were closed, gorgeous yellow cobra hood curled close behind him like the wings of a cicada.

I stepped down into the marble-swirled sands and kneeled on the yellow rug before the stage. I rolled my sleeves back to my elbows, lifting my hands in the bowl of sacrifice.

"Gro-Shuma Omahigali, Master of the Ivory Knowledge and Watcher of the Hidden Door, it is an honor to be in your presence once more," I gently hummed, respectfully bowing.

Gro-Shuma's four hands slowly shifted into the diamond of respect across his chest, a kind nod following. "Master Shivashi. A pleasure and honor, as always."

"Master, I have questions," I whispered, breathing slowly and evenly as my next words came out lower. "And I need answers."

"Speak of them, Master Shivashi. I will listen to all and respond in kind," Master Gro-Shuma hummed, his sinuous form starting to sway in gentle motions.

"I came in contact with the Master of the Western Reaches. We spoke and made peace, though it will not last if action is not taken," I said, a sudden weight building in my chest. "The Reaches will not survive much longer, Master. I know what must be done, so I ask that you make preparations to keep from being injured during this process.'

A soft shake of Gro-Shuma's tail sent the cavern rattling with warmth. His smooth head slowly turned downward, regarding me with closed eyes.

"I understand, Master Shivashi. Thank you for your kind warning."

"Master, the one named Hu-Vei has been located. He is being detained by Moira Ciav and has been bent to aiding her. Together they are creating thoughtless vassals and brutes, spreading the corruption consuming Gar-O-Nitao," I said, keeping my head low and respectful. "Moira's efforts are forcing minds onto the Paths' trials before they are ready, mind-twisting them and creating empowered associates. It is my goal to free him and the people, ending the reign of the beast, Deceit, that hovers like a phantom over the Western Reaches."

"Deceit," came the warm whisper from Gro-Shuma, his voice indiscernible from being male or female. "This name is known."

I heard it more than saw it, the tightening of Gro-Shuma's posture as his scales rippled with an unknown, antediluvian meaning. I looked up in question from the strange tone present inside Gro-Shuma's voice, gasping at seeing my Master drawn back and reared up as though ready to strike.

Gro-Shuma's yellow eyes were bright like a burning nova, sun-dappled snake hood stretched wide and menacing. A horror-filled tremor raced out from my heart along my statue-tight form, eyes unblinking as I stared into the fierce blaze of unrepentant knowledge.

Is that fury I see, or fear?

Hummed the cowed observation, unable to look away.

"Has it touched you?" came Gro-Shuma's compassionate whisper. "Please, tell me."

The distant empathy in Gro-Shuma's feminine voice was shielded behind the posturing rattle of absolute preparation. Every fiber of his being was hinged to decimate, ready to destroy at a moment's notice.

"It did, Master. I was beneath a malady, an affliction they called it, for two days due to its touch," I said, keeping my voice level even as my throat clenched tight. "I came out of it only yesterday, my fevered trials passed and the mantle of Master now upon me. I was then assisted by the Air Nenis, Arua, in purging the rest of the Deceit that Moira had infected me with."

"It has been drawn out, Master," I thoughtfully assured, slowly nodding. "There is nothing left but the memory of what once was."

Master Gro-Shuma's chin quivered as he absorbed my words, a kind nod of acceptance as he slowly eased back into a rested position. The crackling energy of his menacing presence faded away like mist in the morning, as though the room had been electrified with his focused intention.

I had no doubt, for the betterment of all, that Gro-Shuma would have ended me had I answered differently. The pain in his eyes and voice, at even having to contemplate striking me down, was vividly displayed in his trembling snake hood as it drew back to fold behind him.

Gro-Shuma had been scared, wholly and truly. Terrified, out of his goddamn mind. A surreal acknowledgement overtook my thoughts, whispering that Gro-Shuma had been the one threatened, not me.

"Master, speak to me. What makes you so...apprehensive?" came the surprisingly chilled words.

"Master Shivashi, when the world was young there were three great powers that sought to undo the balance of creation," Gro-Shuma stated, an undercurrent of heretical blasphemy rumbling deep in his masculine voice. "Deceit, Desire, and Destruction, collectively known as the Destitute Ones. These functions of the world are not evil, yet necessity brings them in contact with humanity, and thus, are they corrupted to sinister ends."

"The black blood of Deceit flows when trust of each other is lost and forgotten, becoming lies unending. The red lips of Desire will cloud all but the purest of minds, searing emotions claiming all logic. The steel hammer of Destruction will sunder all without a sturdy foundation, razing and ruining all."

"These are the promises left to us from Council's past, etched into ivory and remembered for all time. Such was the way of this wisdom, a gift for those of knowing to watch horizons against threats greater than the eyes of many ignore."

"That Deceit has ensnared one of the lost children is grave, indeed."

Gro-Shuma set his rattle to slowly shaking. I could almost hear each individual bead inside his tail.

"Lost children?" I asked, my voice soft and thoughtful. "When did it happen?"