A massive cavern opens up before me, lit by a stream of light coming from an opening in the ceiling somewhere far above. Stone monuments that look disturbingly like coffins are set in even rows all throughout the room and the air is scented by some kind of putrid spice. I shudder as I realize the purpose of the hall.
It is a tomb.
I want to turn and leave at once, but something holds me back. A voice as quiet as the wind whispers through the air, echoing in the corners of the hall, and the hair on my neck stands on end. The words are muddled together, but from what I can tell, it’s some kind of chant.
I step cautiously toward the nearest row of coffins, which is only half finished. They are newer and are less covered in dust and cobwebs than the other rows. At the end of the line is a large, elegant coffin that is different from the rest. It is clearly styled with the intricacy that characterizes Lavyllian craftsmanship. A bouquet of faded flowers has been set on top of it and most of the spider webs have been cleared away. I lean closer to see the name carved into the top of the stone covering. It reads:
QUEEN ARROSA SOLANGE-GRYPHEM
BEAUTIFUL ROSE, ANGEL OF THE EARTH
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER
Sadness claws through my present state of fear. This must be the resting place of Hamish's mother. I reach out and wipe a bit of gathering dust from the plaque with her name on it. A spider the size of my hand scuttles out from the flowers, and I jerk away with a shudder.
The whispering swells, as if reproving me, and I can make out a word here and there.
“Electus... Gryphem...” it hisses. “Electus... Lerroa...”
I take a step back from the dead queen's coffin and notice something beside it that I hadn't seen before. A little coffin is set beside Queen Arrosa's, made for a child. It is a plain, simple stone box with no designs. It is untidy and streaked with cobwebs, as if no one has bothered to tend to it for a long time.
I feel compelled to step toward it, so I do. As I approach, the voice grows still louder until it is a howling in my ears, as if coming from the coffin itself. I see a name roughly carved into the stone and I reach out a shaky hand to wipe away the dust. I feel my heart rising to my throat. When I see the name, I drop to my knees and stare at it, my whole body going numb.
“Ealdred!” Hamish cries, bursting into the room. “What has gotten into you? This is a tomb!”
“Whose grave is this?” I ask, not able to look at him.
I hear his footsteps approaching cautiously behind me. “That is the grave of my older twin brother.” He pauses. “Why? What is wrong?”
Everything seems to click at once and I simultaneously understand and don't understand more than I could ever imagine. I finally allow myself to look up at him, trying to keep the alarm from showing on my face.
“Oh, nothing,” I say casually. “My- er, my amulet brought me here. I really can't explain how.” I force myself to stand up. “I am feeling very ill. I think that I should rest for the duration of the afternoon.”
He nods, glancing warily at the hall around us. "Yes, I think you should. Let us get out of here, shall we?"
I follow him toward the door, trying to find my way through the maze of questions in my mind that’s making it difficult to breathe.
As we pass through the doorway, the eerie voice follows me. This time the words ring clearly in my head, repeating over and over the name on the grave of Hamish's stillborn brother who had withheld from him his birthright of golden hair.
“ELROY ELECTUS LERROA GRYPHEM!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I enter the damp cool of the palace and hurry toward my chamber, my mind spinning. Hamish parted ways with me after seeing me safely to the main level and I cut through the garden instead of going around through the halls. Nerienda was no longer there, but the apple I’d given her lay abandoned in the dirt.
I climb the stairs wearily and continue down the hall toward my room. The faint sound of shouting comes to me from up the hall, only growing louder as I draw nearer to my chambers. When I reach the door to my apartment, I find it closed. The shouting is coming from behind it.
I put my ear next to the crack in the door and listen. There are two voices railing at each other from inside, one of which I instantly recognize as King Leonel's. Uncontrollable anger washes through me and I want to know what he is doing in my room.
“He's a runaway half-breed slave,” the king is saying. “That's the end of it!”
“Is it?” The second voice belongs to Nerienda. “No, I know you too well. You’re hiding something, and you will tell me what it is!”
“I don’t have to tell you anything!” the king bellows. “Another word and I will silence you, this time for good!”
Nerienda laughs coldly. “You think that you can silence me, son of Leonard? You have repaid me ill after a lifetime in your service, and I am sick of it! I should never have—”
“Silence, woman!”
“You dare—”
There is a loud crash followed by a scream.
I throw open the door, letting it slam into the wall. “Stop it!” I shout at the top of my lungs, releasing all of my anger with it.
The mirror on the wall shatters, and both the king and Nerienda stare at me, astonished. My room has been ransacked. The wardrobe is wide open, and my things are scattered all over the floor. The blankets have been pulled off of my bed, and my sword is lying unsheathed on the bare mattress. The drawers of the nightstand are pulled open, and the basin, evidently hurled by the king, lies in pieces at Nerienda's still bare feet.
The king takes a frantic step toward me, his eyes wide. “How much of that did you hear?” he demands.
“It doesn't matter!” I spit. “I don't care what your status is, your highness, but you have no right to treat her like that!”
He grabs my shoulders and gives me a violent shake. “How much did you hear?” he shouts in my face.
I look him in the eye and revulsion is all I can feel. “Only the last few words.”
His jaw relaxes. “Very good. And no one will hear of this, will they, Ealdred?”
I shake my head, my blood boiling.
"Excellent.” He throws me toward the broken pottery. “I think there’s a mess for you to clean, slave.”
I stumble to the floor at Nerienda's feet and the king strides out of the room. Gingerly, I pick myself up from the sharp pieces, relieved to find that I wasn’t cut by any of them. I dust off my sleeves and turn to Nerienda.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
Teeth clenched, she pulls the hem of her skirt aside. Blood streams from her foot where a thick shard protrudes from the top of it.
“I'll be fine,” she growls.
I offer her my arm. “Here, lean on me. I’ll take you to Lesley.”
She nods distractedly, taking my hand. Her skin is cold and clammy to the touch. Despite her steady composure, she is trembling uncontrollably. I help her pick her way through the shards, supporting her as we walk toward the door.
“You’re going to have to tell me where to go,” I say.
“Turn right,” she directs, and we turn up the hall away from the stairway.
It is slow going, but I allow her to take her time. She leaves a trail of bloody footprints on the floor behind us. At the end of the hall is a closed door, and beside it, a narrow stairway that ascends upward. Nerienda motions to the door and I help her to it. She lets go of me, lifts the latch, and pushes the door open.
Inside, Lesley looks up from a bottle of yellow liquid he is examining.
“My dear girl!” he exclaims when he sees her. “What has happened?”
She falls into his embrace, tears falling down her cheeks. “Oh, father,” she sobs.
“Did he hurt you again?” he asks, stroking her hair.
“Has he ever stopped?”
Guessing that I'm not wanted here anymore, I back out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. I turn down the hall, only to stop abruptly.
“It’s time for you to leave,” the king snarls, looming over me. His eyes are alight with the same wild fury that seems to have taken hold of his golden hair, which flies about his head in an unkempt fashion so contrary to his usual majestic array.
“Why?”
“You interfere in things that are none of your business, strutting about as if you own the place! I've had enough of it! If you don't leave at once, I will make you leave!”
“Why do you hate me so much?” I demand, anger welling up inside of me again. “I never did anything to you!”
“Enough!” He is so close now that his hot breath hits my face. “You will leave, or I will have your head!”
“Go ahead and try!” I hiss right back. “Just remember, Zeldek wants me alive.”
He looks down at me for a moment and then steps away. “We’ll see,” he says, and turning on his heel, he strides away.
Once he has disappeared around the corner, I lean back against the wall beside Lesley's door.
Don't worry. I'll be leaving tonight anyways.
The door opens and Nerienda exits the room. Her foot is bandaged now and she glances at me as she passes by. But she quickly turns away.
A moment later, Lesley comes into the hall.
He stops when he sees me and tilts his head to the side. “What is it, lad?”
I glance up at him. “Nothing.”
“You want to talk about your nothing?”
I shrug.
“Well, I'm about to go to the library for the afternoon. Would you like to join me?”
I shrug again.
“Come on then.”
He turns and starts up the steps. After a moment's hesitation, I start after him. The stairs wind in a narrow spiral upward as we ascend into a tower.
Lesley glances back at me and chuckles. “You like reading, do you?”
My friend Kellagh comes to mind, and I shudder. “It's not something I do often.”
“Ah yes, the half-breed thing. Well, you're lucky to have come here. This is the only place in all of Theara that is accepting of your kind. Mostly because our future king is one.”
“I have heard that many of you aren't so keen on that,” I mutter, recalling the king's animosity toward his own son.
“It'll be a change, that's for sure,” he muses. “But Hamish is a good and wise young man, whatever his flaws may be. He will serve the kingdom well.” Under his breath, he adds, “Anything is better than the way his father is running the place.”
He pauses at a door at the top of the stairs, and I hear the lock grind open. The door swings on its hinges and we enter.
The library is nothing like the one where Kellagh taught me to read. Though that one was much grander, this one is quaint and homey, and every space is stuffed with books. I am greeted by the scent of wood and old parchment. Iron candelabrums dripping with used wax stand all around the room, and dust layers everything.
Lesley closes the door behind us and lights a few candles. Then he sits down at a desk in the centre of the room and leans back in his chair.
“Hamish used to come here and entertain me often when he was younger,” he says with a weary smile. “The last couple of years have been lonely with him gone, and since his return, he hasn’t had time to come up here. The Lady Marianna has been kind enough to visit me in the short time that she has been staying with us. Even with such a wealth of books, an old man can get tired with no one to share them with.”
“Ah,” I say, trying to look interested. But my thoughts are elsewhere.
He seems to guess this. “Something is troubling you, isn't it?”
I nod.
“Can an old man help you sort things out? Or is it something you need to figure out for yourself?”
I look up at him. “Did you ever see Hamish's older twin brother?”
His eyebrows arch, and he watches me carefully. “Why do you ask?”
I swallow. This isn't going to be easy. “I- need to know.”
“I was the one who pronounced him dead.”
“But—” My throat is dry, and it is hard to get the words out. “But he was dead, wasn't he?”
“Very much so.” He sounds almost offended. “What on earth are you getting at?”
“I think—” My voice breaks off, and I try again. “I think that—” I put my face in my hands.
Lesley leaps suddenly from his chair. “Where did you get that?”
I look up at him, startled. He points at my chest. My amulet has fallen out of my shirt again.
“I've always had it,” I say, sliding it back under my tunic.
But Lesley looks as if he has seen a ghost.
“Lesley,” I swallow. “Lesley, am I who I think I am?”
Before he can answer, the door swings open, crashing into the bookshelf behind it. Jambeau enters the room with two armed guards behind him. I spring to my feet, clenching my fists.
“You're going to have to come with us, Ealdred,” Jambeau says uneasily.
“Why?” The word barely exits my throat.
“The king has ordered your arrest. You have been accused of being a sorcerer and conspiring against him and his family.”
My mouth goes dry. “I didn't. You know I haven't.”
He shakes his head sadly. “I don't like this either, but I have to take you in for questioning. Just pray to the Vaelhyreans of old that he will find no fault in you.”
“He will,” I say, not moving.
Jambeau looks worried. “You're not a sorcerer, are you?”
I pause, and then nod. “I was born with the ability to use magic.”
His face grows even more downcast. “Then I'm afraid that there is nothing that can be done to save you.”
He gestures for the guards to take me. They seize my arms, clapping an iron cuff around each wrist. Jambeau leads the way out of the tower as the guards push me toward the door.
“Ealdred!” Lesley calls.
I look over my shoulder.
He sighs wearily. “I fear you may be correct.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
K ing Leonel is already present when I am dragged into the room in which I will inevitably be interrogated. Given the number of staircases we descended to get here, I know that I am once more deep within the vaults beneath the palace. The room is twice as long as it is wide and is outfitted with the devices required for certain forms of interrogation. Shackles and large metal yokes stained with what I pray is rust dangle from the ceiling and walls. But from the dark splatters on the uneven stone floor below, I know that an interrogation or two must have gone rather badly.
The king's deep blue eyes are indifferent as they pass over me, and a catlike smile curls his lips. The frigid hollow that has carved itself in my chest since I was arrested grows still more at the sight of him. It is hard to resist the urge to spit on his feet when I am thrown to my knees before him.
I glare up at him, a defiant tilt to my chin. A challenge plays in his eyes as he stares back.
“Chain him to the wall,” he orders, not breaking his gaze for a moment.
“But sire,” Jambeau says, “he's just a boy! I believe that he will cooperate—”
“Do it!”
The guards pick me up again by the arms and drag me to the back of the room, where two shackles hang from the wall. I look to Jambeau for help as they force my already cuffed wrists against the rough surface of the wall, but he looks away. We both know that he can't help me even if he wanted to.
Shackles are clapped onto my wrists, and the metal is cold against my skin. My shoulders are pressed against the wall by the weight of the chains, and when the guards release me, I have to keep myself from falling forward, twisting my arms back still more.
The guards leave the room upon command, and the door clangs shut behind them. Jambeau melts against the wall as the king comes to stand in front of me.
“Ealdred, you injure me,” he says, shaking his head with a feigned look of bewilderment. “You
have betrayed my trust. Even worse, you have betrayed the trust that my son put in you. At his request, I allowed you, a runaway slave, to invade my family home, though it was against my better judgement. And what have you done to repay such kindness? You've turned around and stabbed us in the back!”
“What are you talking about?” I grunt. “I have done nothing!”
“Keep your lies to yourself, half-breed! I am not blind. The night you arrived, a blast of light was seen spiralling into the sky nearby. Moments later, the surrounding landscape was enveloped in blue mist that sunk into the ground. I do not know what kind of curse you have cast on us, but your insistence on lagging behind that evening has forced me to conclude that you are the sorcerer behind it. Even worse, I have proof that today you, in a fit of anger, blew out a mirror that I was standing by. Will you deny this action?”
“I see that your mind is already made up,” I say bitterly. “There is no poin—”
“Do you deny it?”
“You know that I can't!”
He nods, satisfied. “It has also come to my attention that you consorted with an outlawed person known as the Crimson Shadow.”
“The Crimson Shadow?” Jambeau echoes, his eyes widening.
“Indeed,” the king says. “This was found in his room.”
He draws Bellator’s sword and throws it down at my feet. The air rings with the sound.
Jambeau stares at it. “Where did you get that?”
I glare at the sword.
“Answer him,” the king warns, raising his hand to smite me.
“It was a gift, to keep until I got a sword of my own,” I say gruffly. “And I wasn't trying to hide it! I had it at my side for all to see when you invited me to stay with you.”
“It was dark and the Lady Marianna was injured!” the king replies. “None of us were looking at the design of your sword!”
“When did you have dealings with the likes of her?” Jambeau asks, his tone not quite matching the hostility of his words.
“We travelled together for a time.” I hesitate, the memory of her death still too fresh in my mind. “Up until she died.”
Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Page 26