“You fight well, witchling,” the Red King said calmly, “but not well enough. I will get those pages from you and your little friends.”
The Red King made another casual flicking motion with his hand, and Finriel flew backwards with a yelp of pained surprise before she landed on her back and skidded against the far wall. She sat up with a groan, and a faint trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. The world staggered to a stop. Tedric hadn’t known that the Red King possessed battle magic. He, like everyone else in the realm, had been led to believe that Adustio’s dormancy spell had been cast upon the Red King before anyone else.
How many other lies am I going to face tonight? Tedric thought as he began to make his way toward Finriel, but Lorian shot past him before he took more than two steps. Tedric pivoted and swept back into the fight, deciding it best to stay hidden from the Red King for as long as possible. He knew he should be feeling angry at the betrayal of his king, the man who had helped him achieve something close to greatness. But he felt nothing, nothing except for the burning necessity to get his companions and the pages out of the castle and far away from Proveria. The blood moon shone ominously into the room, and Tedric shivered as a faint echo of song filtered through the window.
“Tedric!” Krete’s voice made Tedric turn to find him dodging and darting his way past fighting fairies and humans as the gnome made his way toward him.
“We need to get out of here,” Tedric snapped as soon as Krete approached, and the gnome cursed, wiping at a large droplet of blood that had sprayed onto his cheek.
“There’s no way that I can let Suzunne out now,” Krete said through gasps. “We can’t risk someone taking the page.”
“What about your portal stone?” Tedric bellowed, and Krete shook his head.
“I didn’t have time to exchange it for a new one,” he replied in despair. “It’s got as much magic as a common pebble now.”
“Krete, catch!”
Krete turned and reached out his hands just in time to catch a small blue stone that Lorian flung to him from across the wide room. Krete paled, and a strange mixture of both relief and anger crossed over his face before he whirled and charged toward Lorian.
“I told you to put the stone back before we left the portal room!” Krete yelled at Lorian, and Tedric glanced over his shoulder to find bodies, fairy and Ten alike, all quite occupied in the fight. He cursed under his breath and jogged over to his companions, finding Krete and Lorian engaged in a heated argument. He shot a glance toward Finriel, who aside from a few bruises on her right cheek and drying blood on her chin, looked in one piece.
“You stole from the portal chest,” Krete yelled, and Lorian shrugged.
“You shouldn’t have expected any less from me,” Lorian replied, “and besides, now we have a way out of this place.”
Krete opened his mouth to shout once more, but Tedric cut him off.
“Listen to me!” Tedric panted, and Krete took a step forward, ducking as an arrow flew over his head and bounced off the wide window. “Get Finriel and Lorian out of here, now.”
Krete paled and pointed behind Tedric’s shoulder. “Fairy.”
Tedric spun and ducked at the exact moment the head fairy guard slashed at the spot where his head had been a second ago. Tedric growled and shoved his sword into the guard’s stomach, twisting and pushing it upwards into him. The fairy guard’s eyes grew wide in pained surprise and he gaped down upon the blooming wound in his stomach.
“Don’t ever touch me or my friends, understood?” Tedric growled to the fairy, and twisted the sword one last time before he wrenched it out and the fairy fell to the floor.
A pool of dark blood spread onto the floor around the beautiful fairy guard, and the air suddenly shifted, their surroundings now bathed in deep crimson light as the blood moon crested in the sky. Tedric gulped down the shock and adrenaline that pulsed through his veins and tore his gaze away from the fallen fairy. It was too late to think of what he had just done, and the repercussions that might follow.
Laughter and music filtered from the forest, and Tedric fought down a shaky laugh. The thought of fairies drinking and dancing as they celebrated their birth at the same moment bloodshed and death graced their capital was almost unfathomable.
“Make that portal,” Tedric growled, and Krete gulped before nodding. “Make sure that he isn’t disturbed,” Tedric said to Finriel, who, to his relief, also nodded and headed toward Krete, who was now huddled in a corner parallel to the window.
“What are you going to do?” Lorian roared.
A scream rang through Tedric’s ears and, without thinking, he turned back toward the throne and Aeden. He took another step, but then remembered that Lorian had spoken. He spun toward the thief, resolve settling over him as he spoke. “I will find my own way out.”
Lorian nodded, a sad smile growing on his face as he clapped Tedric on the shoulder. “Be safe, brother.”
Tedric gulped and nodded, unable to reply. He glanced over at Finriel, who was standing in front of Krete, blocking his quick moving body from the rest of the room. She gave him a curt nod and a grimace that he knew was as close to a smile as he would get from her.
Tedric clenched his jaw and glanced back toward the fight behind him before looking back at Lorian. “Go, now.”
Tedric didn’t wait another moment, but instead made his way toward Aeden, blocking and slashing his way through the ever-growing number of fairy guards that continued to pour into the room. The Red King strode toward the back stairs of the dais, casually bringing up a hand and using his magic to send any unfortunate guards slamming against the ground. Tedric reached the dais, and he spared a glance down at the mayhem before them. There was blood everywhere, the once silver floor now covered in a blanket of crimson. The fallen were mostly fairy, but Tedric felt a stab of sadness at the sight of two fallen warriors of his own.
But Tedric could not save his men now. They knew how to fight, and they would do it well. The only thing on his mind was Aeden. He whirled back upon the scene before him. He strode toward her, the fear in her eyes pushing him forward. The guards held her tightly, their grip unrelenting no matter how much she resisted and thrashed against them.
“Let me go!” she yelled. “I am your princess!”
“Aeden, you are a shame to our kind. You have grown weak,” the fairy king said as he slowly strode toward her. “For this, you must receive the worst punishment.”
Aeden’s scream was almost animalistic now as she thrashed and kicked against the guards holding her. King Sorren shook his head, though his face showed no sadness. “I did not wish to do this to you, but I can smell your weakness toward these companions of yours. I cannot have that weakness upon my throne.”
All thoughts of portals flew from Tedric’s mind, and he broke into a determined run as the fairy king’s hands began to glow an icy blue and Aeden screamed in both fury and fear as her father reached for her. Tedric did not think as he lunged, striking his blade forward and up.
Metal drove into flesh, breaking bone and tissue. A surprised gurgle escaped from the fairy king’s mouth as Tedric drove his blade through his stomach with a sickening sound. Warm blood pooled over Tedric’s hand and he wrenched his sword out of the fairy king with a grunt of effort.
Aeden gasped, but Tedric wasn’t able to tell if the sound was from horror or surprise before the guards detaining Aeden rushed toward Tedric. He easily disarmed and knocked them down as if they were nothing but weeds.
With her hands now free, Aeden ripped her sword from its sheath and took two long strides toward her father, who swayed upon his feet as he looked down upon the blooming wound in his abdomen. Aeden’s blade connected with the king’s already wounded stomach, and King Sorren’s eyes widened as green eyes met their mirror.
“Why are you doing this?” King Sorren coughed, and his blood spattered across Aeden’s cheeks.
Aeden pursed her lips and drove her blade upward into her father’s chest.
King Sorren let out a terrible wheezing sound and sagged against Aeden, who stepped back. The king fell to his knees with a loud crack, and Tedric could only watch in frozen horror as Aeden leaned down so that she was eye level with her dying father.
“I hate you,” Aeden spat. “I hate you for never being a true father. I hate you for never listening to me.” Aeden twisted the blade slightly, and foaming blood spattered against Sorren’s lips, yet she continued to speak. “I hate you for blaming Kittia for my mother’s death and sentencing her to die even though I begged you against it.”
Confusion swam through Tedric at this. She had never spoken of someone named Kittia before. His thoughts were quickly disrupted, however, as another gurgling splatter of blood poured from the fairy king’s mouth.
“Aeden, I—” Sorren gasped, and Aeden twisted the blade again, making him stop speaking abruptly.
There was no beauty left on Aeden’s blood-spattered face as she spoke again. “I hate you for killing my dear Warren, and for making me watch your guard slit his throat because you didn’t wish to get your hands dirty. Well, I suppose I never learned your lesson, Father, because my hands are dirty with your blood.
“I have been forced to betray and lie to every single person that I have ever loved because of you,” Aeden continued bitterly, “and now, in order to defeat you, I have had no choice but to become you.”
King Sorren took in one last rattling breath, and Tedric was able to catch his final words as he slumped against Aeden’s blade.
“Forgive me.”
Tedric opened his mouth, but was cut off as the ground began to shake. The walls rumbled around them, and Tedric lunged for Aeden, covering her body with his own as rubble fell around them. A faint pop sounded behind Tedric, and he let out a small breath of relief as he clutched Aeden’s shaking body and looked around to find that Lorian, Krete, and Finriel had disappeared. The rumbling strengthened and soon the ground felt like it might crack open. Tedric watched numbly as the wall facing the forest fell away into nothingness, revealing the blood-colored sky, bathing the room in its unearthly glow.
At once, Aeden shoved him away. Tedric gasped in surprise. He fell at the sight of her glowing eyes as she rose to stand while the castle crumbled around them. She began to shake, and Tedric watched as faint glowing veins begin to trace up her arms and neck, framing the corners of her cheeks and lips. Aeden tilted her head upwards and groaned, in pain or in pleasure, Tedric couldn’t tell. As soon as the glowing began, it stopped.
The shaking slowed, and a blinding pain shot through the top of Tedric’s head as a large chunk of crystal fell from the roof and crashed on top of him. He gasped as his vision blurred, and he had the faint sensation of falling before his cheek met the warm, wet floor. He blinked quickly and looked up at Aeden’s blurred form as she came to stand over him. Tedric blinked again, but her face remained blurry no matter how hard he tried. Black splotches began to dance around his vision and he attempted to open his mouth to speak. Only a strangled groan escaped his lips, and Aeden crouched down before him. He could barely make out the sharp lines of her face now, the face of the woman he hated to love.
“You were right,” Aeden said softly through the sudden silence, and Tedric heard faint footsteps approaching through his fading consciousness.
“I never break a promise,” the Red King’s calm voice rang out through the walls, and Tedric closed his eyes as the splotches in his vision finally gave way to complete darkness.
37
Finriel
Finriel’s mind felt oddly blank as she, Lorian, and Krete sat huddled in the corner of a small pub that went by the name of The Horsehead Inn. Dim candlelight filled the wide room, and the roars of laughter and conversation coming from drunken men and women rang dully in Finriel’s ears as she gazed down at the dented and scratched oak table before her. The pub smelled slightly of vinegar and sweat, but she supposed that it was better than the overwhelming tang of blood that had filled King Sorren’s throne room.
Lorian had suggested the idea of teleporting to Fortula, the only human-ruled region of Keadora, before they had escaped the castle. His reasoning had been simple, Creonid was no longer safe for all three of them, and Fortula was close to many major traveling roads and ports, which led to a higher concentration of thieves and bandits passing through for easy jobs with good access in and out of the city. Therefore no one would question why they appeared to have just gone through battle.
And now, as she sat by Lorian’s side with a mug of steaming apple cider in her blood-smeared hands, she could only think of Tedric and Aeden. Three bowls of stew had gone cold on the table, as none of them seemed to have much of an appetite. Lorian took a swig of ale, but Krete simply stared down at the dented and scratched table.
“I hope Tedric is all right,” Finriel said quietly, speaking for the first time since teleporting from the castle.
Lorian nodded glumly. “He was too proud to leave the fight so soon.”
Krete looked up at this, and Finriel noticed that his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “He was trying to protect Aeden from the rubble as we left.”
“I hope he ran her through, too. He’s likely cursed from killing the fairy guard anyways,” Finriel growled, and an ember of fire sputtered feebly in her stomach even through her exhaustion.
Krete shook his head sadly. “I had a feeling that she was hiding something, but I never expected her to do what she did.” Finriel and Lorian remained silent as Krete took a fitful gulp of cider before speaking once more. “I knew that her father was a monster ever since I met him. It was part of the reason I grew so close to Aeden. I wanted her to have someone she could rely on other than her nan, though King Sorren killed the poor woman on Aeden’s thirteenth birthday.”
“What?” Finriel hissed, and Krete shook his head.
“She was sentenced to death for the murder of fairy queen Maidre, though both Aeden and I had come forth to Sorren with solid evidence of Kittia’s innocence. Aeden watched her execution, as well as the private execution of her lover, also by her father’s hand.”
“I heard her say that name before we escaped,” Lorian muttered, and Krete took another sip of cider.
“The murders of two people she loved were the last things that broke her relationship with King Sorren. It also broke the last bit of true happiness that I ever saw from her, but I didn’t realize that the darkness had consumed her entirely,” Krete sniffled.
“Why didn’t you tell us that she was a princess?” Lorian asked, and Krete shrugged.
“Aeden made everyone attending the emergency council meeting swear an oath of secrecy to keep her true identity secret upon our acceptance of the quest, which I suppose should have been my first indication that she had ulterior motives.”
“She was working with the Red King the entire time in order to control our quest,” Finriel growled. “She knew who Egharis’s employer was and she didn’t tell us.”
“We can only assume that the Red King is the mysterious employer,” Lorian reminded Finriel with a tilt of his head.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Finriel hissed, attempting to keep her voice down through her sudden surge of anger. “Why else would he have come to Proveria? And the way he spoke as if Egharis was his property, it’s the only logical answer.”
Krete sniffled again, and Finriel’s heart gave a feeble thump of sadness as she watched a single tear streak down his dust- and blood-smeared face. Silence enveloped them again for a few minutes, and Finriel took a small sip of cider with her left hand while Lorian clutched her other hand in his. She wasn’t sure if it had been a conscious decision on his part when they had first sat down and his hand found its way to hers, but she hadn’t pulled away. She was grateful that he had left the path before they’d been caught by the fairy guards, and she was happy to have him by her side.
“So, what do we do now?” Lorian asked through the silence.
“I need to return to Creonid and inform
King Drohan of what has happened.” Krete sighed. “Hopefully he can send a messenger to the elves before the Red King and Aeden decide on their next course of action.”
A sudden idea sparked through Finriel, and she leaned toward Krete. “You said that you have been to the Witch Isles before, right?” Krete nodded, and a spark of hope shot through the shadow of exhaustion and pain that shrouded Finriel’s spirit. “Do you think they would have any information on the Red King that would be helpful to us?”
Krete tapped a finger on the rim of his clay mug and pondered for a moment. “They certainly might. I know that they don’t like him much, which could help your cause.”
“Excellent.” Finriel smiled. “Maybe they could teach me as well. It would be helpful to actually know how to control my battle magic if I will be needing it in the future.”
“Do you think that you will need to use it in the future?” Krete asked, and Finriel shrugged with uncertainty.
“I don’t know. But it’s clear from what Egharis said that the Red King isn’t simply trying to play a sick joke on the realm.”
A strange mixture of excitement and dread filled Finriel, and the thought of meeting her mother sent tired excitement thrumming through her veins. But she did truly need to learn how to fight properly after her dreadful performance tonight. The Red King had blocked her attack and blasted her onto her backside with nothing more than a flick of his hand. She took another swig of cider, feeling the steaming alcohol warm her up inside as she settled with resolve.
“You know that we’re talking about war here,” Lorian said quietly, and Finriel’s excitement withered.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“It’s something that Raymara hasn’t experienced for one thousand years,” Lorian continued. “The people of this realm are not prepared for such a thing. I mean, I’m quite skilled with a blade, but it’s only because I’ve been forced to use one. There are many in the realm who have never even seen a real sword.”
Of Liars and Thieves Page 34