Adamar sighed and bowed his head. “Father suggested that you be put out of your misery. Since you weren’t going to be heir, he felt that he would be doing you a service, keeping you from facing the difficulties of life without sight. I disagreed.”
Aramis didn’t want to believe it, but … something in Adamar’s tone made him consider the words closely.
“What happened?” Aramis asked.
Adamar looked at him. “I told him you weren’t blind. I didn’t know for certain, but I thought I had seen your eyes following me a few times. It was only a suspicion, but one that ended up being proven. Unfortunately, it took an action on my part that father found unforgivable.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing to warrant his wrath. I merely committed a few acts that shined an undesirable light on me. Father cared about how people saw him too much. He didn’t like the negative attention from what I did, and so … he banished me. That forced him to keep you alive. Thankfully, one of the physicians found a cure for your eyes. It turns out you weren’t blind after all.”
Wait, Aramis thought. He …
“You saved my life?” Aramis asked, his voice a whisper.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Adamar said.
“No,” Aramis suddenly understood why he’d never heard of his brother. “No, you did save my life. If you hadn’t been banished, father would have followed through. I would be dead.”
Adamar nodded.
Aramis was overwhelmed with emotions, but then his suspicion returned. “What about what you’ve done to our people? To our father?”
Adamar knelt in front of him. “Lies, all of it. I would never have father killed. We may not have been close, but he was my father the same as yours. The Prophet, unbeknownst to me, sent an assassin to kill father. I didn’t know, I swear it.”
“Then why did you claim the throne?”
“The Prophet told me that father had removed my banishment and had requested that I return. He tricked me,” Adamar said harshly. “I had no reason to doubt him. When father exiled me, I had nowhere to go. Ilias found me. I was starving, living on the streets in Talvaarin. I fled our kingdom because everywhere I went, people shunned me. No one would give me work. I even begged on the corners for spare coins. People spat on me and cursed me. I …”
Aramis felt himself welling with emotions. Confusion, anger, disappointment. So many that he couldn’t fully feel any single one over the other. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that you went through that.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Adamar replied. “I did what I did for the right cause. I never anticipated father banishing me, but that doesn’t change why I did what I did. Given the same situation again, I wouldn’t choose any differently. The things I experienced helped make me who I am today.”
“So, you came here thinking that you were going to be reunited, only to find that father had been killed?”
“Yes,” a tear slid down Adamar’s cheek. “I arrived after he’d been killed, but before the funeral. I was told that you had killed him. I didn’t know you or your character, so I assumed it to be true. I had the guards sweep the city for you. They never found you. I assumed that you had fled, and that was proof of your guilt.”
“I was being held as a prisoner in the dungeons,” Aramis said. “I was tortured and told to admit that I had killed our father. I didn’t kill him, and I refused to admit anything like that.”
Adamar stood up. “You were in the dungeon the entire time?”
“Until my friend rescued me.”
“Melchiades, right? Yes, I was told he had helped you murder our father.” Adamar shook his head in disbelief. “They lied to me,” he muttered. “They lied to me!” he repeated, shouting it. “Ilias had our father killed and blamed on it you. I can’t believe it. Why would he do that? I trusted him. He was like a second father to me.”
“From what I’ve seen and experienced at the hands of Mordum and his servants, I’m surprised you want the Mark. They are all dark and twisted people.”
“No, not all of them,” Adamar said. “I’ve come to see that corruption has indeed filled Mordum’s ranks, but it wasn’t always like that. Not until recently. Something has changed, but I don’t know what. Mordum told me to find you, to keep you safe. The Prophet said Mordum wants to take human form and that he has chosen you as the vessel. You must feel so blessed.”
“Blessed?” Aramis said. “Gods, no. I didn’t want this blasted mark to begin with. A templar cursed me with it.”
“That’s odd,” Adamar said. “Mordum only gives the mark to those who ask for it. I believe you, but … I don’t understand. That’s not possible.”
“Did they tell you that, too?”
Adamar’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Aramis. If I’d have known they weren’t what they said they were …”
“What do we do?” Aramis asked.
“What do you mean?” Adamar replied.
“The man who had the orb. He did something to me. I’m not sure how, but he forced my armor to dispel. And I think he found out where the bones are.”
“The bones of Mordum?” Adamar’s sudden excitement worried Aramis.
“Yes,” he answered. He watched his brother carefully as he related how he got the bones. Adamar was excited, but not in a way that justified his initial worry.
“So, you have the blood and the bones? That is good. I have the ashes. Where are they? We need to keep them out of Ilias’s hands.”
“The blood is back at my hideaway. The bones are hidden by magic, but I can get them. We may have a problem, though.”
“What?”
“The man with the orb. I think he knows how the bones are hidden. I’m a little confused as I think about it, but I think he pulled the information from me. Everything is muddled.”
“Then we need to hurry. There are different types of crystal spheres like that, but there are some that can rob a man of his wits. It’s possible he used it to get what he wanted out of you. He’s probably going to find the bones as we speak.”
“Can’t you send your men to stop him?”
Adamar shook his head. “He’s a higher rank than I am. If my men even obeyed that order, he’d have them killed. No, we’ve got to do this ourselves.” Adamar unsheathed a dagger from the folds of his tunic and cut Aramis’s bonds. “He’s templar and he’s very dangerous. Tell me where the blood is and I will retrieve it. You go get the bones.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Aramis said as he stood up. He rubbed his bruised and scraped wrists. “There’s a network of men loyal to our father who have it. If they saw you, they would kill first and ask questions later. I’ll get them both and bring them to you. Where should we meet?”
Adamar rubbed his chin, thinking. “There’s a house in the city. It’s secluded and abandoned. I can slip you out of the castle, but the rest is on you.”
“What about you?” Aramis asked. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll keep Ilias and the others busy.”
“What if they ask where I am?”
“I’ll make something up. Don’t worry about me. Come on, we’ve got to hurry.” Adamar opened the door to the room and stepped into the hall. Two guards stood on either side of the doorway. “Their prisoner says there is another man here in the castle. Go, find him. Bring him to me alive!”
The guards sprinted off. Adamar walked both ends of the hall to make sure they were alone, then he waved for Aramis to follow him. Adamar led Aramis to the end of the hall and into an empty room on the right side. He closed the door behind him. “There’s a passage in this room that leads outside the castle walls. You’ll need to find a way back in as the door only opens one way. I’m sure however you got into the city will work for you again. Meet me at the end of District street. You’ll know the building when you see it. The windows are boarded.”
Adamar pressed a stone and a section of the wall shifted back and to the left, revealing a n
arrow staircase. Aramis grabbed a torch from the wall. “It was odd finding out I had a brother. I didn’t believe it at first. It’s even more odd meeting him after all this time.” Aramis smiled. “I like it, though. I’ll see you in a few hours. Together, we’ll stop this darkness before it’s too late.”
Adamar embraced him in a hug. “Be safe, my brother.”
“I will.” Aramis nodded, then stepped into the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness. Adamar pressed the same stone and the wall slid back into place.
Mordum was right. That was easy.
“Friendship is powerfully forged in the heat of struggle.”
—Melchiades
CHAPTER twelve
It took Aramis longer to escape the castle than he thought it would. The tunnel branched off in different directions, all leading to caved in chambers or dead ends. By the time he finally found the exit that led outside the city, he had gotten turned around and backtracked several times.
The sun was setting and the sky was painted with beautiful colors. Aramis felt hope for the first time since his father’s death.
I have a brother!
The knowledge that his brother was merely deceived and being used by the gods as he was offered some comfort. Finally, someone who understood what it was like to be a pawn in a game you couldn’t control. His excitement made him want to rush, but he knew he needed to stay out of sight. Just because his brother was on his side, didn’t mean that fighting Mordum’s servants would be any easier.
He walked around the outskirts of the castle for half a mile before he found the sewer entrance that Larson had shown him. The grate was wet with fresh waste that had been dumped. Aramis grit his teeth. Even that could not dampen his joy. He lifted the grate and climbed inside. He made his way carefully through the tunnel to the chamber they’d been using as a hideaway. As soon as he stepped into the room, he was greeted by several faces.
“Aramis!”
He turned to see Hannah. His heart fluttered down into his stomach and he realized in that moment just how much he loved her. He embraced her tightly and held her close for a long moment, breathing in her scent and feeling her soft hair and skin. It felt like a dream.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “Larson told us you went to kill Adamar. I was afraid you’d been captured.”
“I was,” Aramis said, releasing her. “But I escaped.”
“How?” Mel asked. He stepped through the small crowd of people.
“Adamar let me go.”
Everyone in the room went silent.
“What do you mean?” Larson finally asked.
“He’s not what we think he is,” Aramis said. “He’s been deceived by Mordum’s prophet. He’s not responsible for any of this.”
“My Lord,” Mel said gently. “He’s trying to subvert you. We know he’s responsible. Everything we’ve seen …” Mel had a troubled look on his face.
“I know how it looks, but he’s not the decision maker. He’s not behind any of this.”
“What about your father?” Larson asked.
“Mordum’s prophet tricked him. He sent the assassin, not Adamar. I know it sounds crazy,” Aramis said. “But I believe him.”
“It is crazy,” Mel said. “The fact that you would believe him is even more concerning. Think about it, my Lord. Think. Why would he tell you all that? Why would he let you go? He wants something from you.”
“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head. “He’s telling the truth. I saw it in his eyes. He said we need to keep the blood and the bones out of the Prophet’s reach. He’s got somewhere safe we can hold them until we defeat the Prophet and his men.”
Aramis realized everyone was staring at him as if he’d gone mad. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”
Larson shook his head. “I can’t trust the word of someone who willingly follows the god of death. I’ve seen things that can’t be reconciled to this … information.”
Aramis was confused. He wished he could take the things he saw and put them into their minds. If only they had seen and heard what he’d seen, they would know. “If you don’t believe him, that’s fine. That’s your choice. But I do, and I am going to take the blood and the bones to him.”
Aramis went to grab the wineskin that held the blood. Mel stepped in front of him and placed a hand on Aramis’s chest. “My Lord, I can’t let you do this. We’ve worked too hard to get here. We can’t just hand everything over to him.”
“Of all the people,” Aramis said softly. “I would have expected you to back me. Get out of my way. I’ll finish this. I’ll end this darkness myself.”
Mel didn’t budge. His eyes were pleading. He’s trying to trick you, a voice whispered in his head. He doesn’t want you to succeed.
“Move,” Aramis warned. Mel stood resolute. “I said move,” Aramis said again. “You can’t handle it, can you?”
“I’m sorry?” Mel asked, confused.
“You can’t handle the fact that this war is coming to an end. Your entire life’s mission has been to fight against Mordum. If he’s defeated, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself, would you?”
“My Lord, think about what you are saying. I never wanted war in the first place. Can’t you see that Adamar has you fooled? You are going to give him everything he needs to bring Mordum back into this world. Please, tell me you see the truth.”
Aramis did see the truth. “Move,” he said again.
“I cannot let you do this.”
Mel’s betrayal stung worse than anything he’d ever felt. Aramis’s eyes watered with tears. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew you would do this, but I thought maybe …” Aramis clenched his jaw and steeled his emotions. “I thought maybe you’d value our friendship more than the lines in the sand. You know I don’t want this. But I have no choice.”
Aramis pushed Mel away, then summoned his armor and his blade. The air hissed, echoing off the walls of the chamber. The others gathered scrambled out of the way. Hannah backed up, shaking her head in disbelief. “What happened to you?” she asked, horrified.
Her disgust wrenched his heart, but he knew that she didn’t understand. He could forgive her of that. Mel stood protectively in front of the wineskin. That, Aramis thought, I can never forgive.
“Please, my Lord. Aramis,” Mel said, shaking his head. “Please don’t do this.”
“I am your king,” Aramis said coldly. “And you will address me as such. Get out of my way or I swear by the gods I will cut you down.”
When Mel didn’t move, it enraged him. The dark whispers began filling his ears, urging him to strike him down. They told him things that Mel had thought about him. His rage took over and he charged Mel, swinging his blade in a downward chop, seeking to cleave him from shoulder to hip. Mel’s surprise was splayed across his face. He managed to summon his own blade in time to block the strike.
Aramis heard Larson and his men draw their own blades. “Traitors, all of you!” he snarled. “You will all regret this!” he screamed. He turned on Larson’s men. One of them came at him, waving his sword wildly. Aramis quickly sidestepped and tripped the man as he passed. He tumbled to the ground. Another man began to circle around him, trying to flank him from the rear.
With a growl, Aramis threw himself into the others, kicking, punching and even jabbing with the hilt of his blade. His anger told him to kill them, but something else kept his hand from following through. He knocked several of them unconscious and broke a few noses. Larson dropped his blade, the fear evident on his face.
Aramis turned back towards the wineskin to find Mel still guarding it. He’d summoned his armor and stood in a defensive position. The whispers urged him on. He stabbed forward with his blade, attempting to pierce Mel’s armor. Mel knocked his sword aside, but didn’t counterattack.
Fine, let him die a coward!
He stepped close to Mel and thrust a few strikes at him, testing his defenses. Mel blocked them all easily. Aramis felt his tattoo bur
ning. The power called out to him. It wanted him to use it, to unleash it against Mel. His anger, the whispers, the call of the Mark … they overwhelmed his senses. He closed his eyes and unleashed the dark power welling within him. A blast of black lightning shot forth from the tip of his blade, striking Mel in the chest.
Mel staggered back from the force, landing heavily against the table and smashing it. The wineskin fell to the floor but didn’t burst. Aramis screamed with all of his might. The dark power flowed out from him and black flames consumed everything near his sword. The cot and the broken table flared, giving birth to a fire. Mel rolled out of the flames and got back to his feet. Still, he would not attack.
Aramis sent a torrent of black flames at Mel, bathing him in a shower of darkness. The fire seemed to have no effect on him. He charged Mel again, this time ramming him with his shoulder. The two went down in a clash of metal. Hannah scream. Aramis ripped Mel’s helmet off and punched him in the face several times with his armored fist. Blood splattered his armor and Mel’s body went limp.
Aramis got up and walked through the fire he’d created and grabbed the wineskin. He realized Hannah was trapped by the fire. He ran to her and wrapped his body around hers, then stepped through the flames, using his armor as a shield for her. He knew the fire would end up consuming the entire room. He didn’t care. He glanced at the men who lay unconscious on the ground. Larson was trying to pull one of them toward the exit tunnel. Mel’s body still lay unmoving.
They’ll see, he thought. In this life or the next, they will see I was right.
He led Hannah out of the burning chamber using the ladder that led into the alley above. She was shaking uncontrollably. Aramis reached out to touch her face and she flinched. He drew his hand away. So be it.
She met his eyes briefly. He smiled at her, but he could see the fear in her eyes. He’d become something else entirely to her. She would see. She would see just like the others would see.
The Restored King (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 4) Page 13