by Tyler Chase
He peered at her. “And you, Vaush?”
She lifted her eyes to him. “Your irises turned two shades lighter, like the Murkudahl before they launch into their bloody battle frenzies. It was…,” her gaze fell to the pillow once more, “unnerving.”
He felt the small barrier of fear rising just as plainly as Vaush held that pillow like some sort of shield. He readily discerned that if he didn’t deal swiftly with the matter, it could fester into something more threatening.
“Vaush … look at me.” He waited until she met his gaze. “The day I fell in Monteras, I genuinely believed I was giving my life to save yours. I’d gladly do that a thousand times over for you. But that wasn’t the end of it because, for the second time in my life, you saved me. I have to believe that my life was twice narrowly spared for a great purpose—namely, that I could spend the rest of my years guarding you and keeping you safe.” He smiled sadly. “That’s our bond, Vaush. To love each other with everything we are and protect each other from any enemy who’d harm us … even if that enemy were me,” his eyes narrowed with earnest, his voice was gravelly with emotion, “I’d take my own life before I let myself do you harm.” He reached out with his thoughts and let her feel the depth of his soul’s anguish. Beloved, never lose faith in me. Never lose faith in us.
Overcome, she moved the pillow aside, lifted her hand to his face, and cradled it tenderly. “I trust you with my life, Comron,” her tone sure and filled with resolve. “I’m not a fool blinded by love. I know what the Murkudahl say is true. The essence has changed you in unpredictable ways. That was a gamble I took when I gave it to you. But I also know that there is one thing that will never change because it is an eternal constant—your love for me.” She rested her hand upon his chest, felt his heart thumping beneath her hand. “I’d stake my life on that.”
Relieved, he exhaled and gathered Vaush into his arms and held her close for a while. He then leaned back against the soft cushions, still holding her. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Their hearts found the beat of the other and slowly, their rhythms melded and began to beat as one.
***
Having drifted off to sleep, Comron was awakened by Vaush’s private communicator chirping at her wrist. He lifted her hand and viewed the message. It was from Chancellor Trin alerting Vaush that Lord Ahmed’s family had been abducted by the regional tribal leader.
“Vaush,” he said, gently nudging her awake.
She rubbed her eyes and squinted. “What is it?”
“They’ve taken Ahmed’s family,” he said, pointing at the communique. “Trin’s certain the Hegemony is behind it. It seems to have Grusonius’ prints all over it.”
“That bastard!” She punched a pillow. “And we were so close to getting Ahmed to negotiate trade in non-richya.”
“You think the Hegemony didn’t know that,” he said gruffly, lifting off the sofa. “That’s precisely why they grabbed his family, to ensure he doesn’t cooperate with the Hinter Worlds.”
“The poor man, he must be beside himself with grief. I’ll send word that we’ll do all in our power to help him recover his family.” She sat back and smoothed her hands over her face. “Damn, this is really going to set us back.”
“Not if we send in an extraction team to rescue his family,” Comron said over his shoulder as he made his way over to the com-console and tapped at it. “Yaeger, get in here.”
“That would be an ingenious move,” Vaush said, leaping off the sofa. “We save his family, earn his undying gratitude and turn him completely against the Hegemony all in one fell swoop when he finds out they’re the ones who took his family in the first place.”
“That’s the plan,” he said absently, his mind already fast at work running through the logistics. “Just pray Yaeger finds them in time. It could change everything.”
Chapter 16
After returning from the visit to Fort Extremis, Comron was in high spirits over the remarkable advances they were making in assembling the new Murkdahl-inspired fleet. Erlacher’s training camps were meeting with much success and the men and women were forming cohesive high-performing teams. Perhaps when the essence gene sequencing was complete, these soldiers would be the first test cases for the essence trials.
Indeed, all was proceeding according to schedule.
He hadn’t informed Vaush yet but, as she suspected, Chaiyse wasn’t playing games about his new telepathic weapon. And yes, the skill was a weapon. His first lesson with Chaiyse was painful but productive and, in time, he’d wield the weapon as well as any Kurukaii. He shared little of this with Vaush. She didn’t need a constant reminder that he was being transformed into a superior version of himself—smarter, faster, and stronger.
Truthfully, he didn’t quite understand why it frightened Vaush so. She had changed as well. The only difference was that she’d never been telepathic to begin with, whereas his latent abilities had been vastly enhanced.
We can no longer see him in the Archives. Comron had to concede that even he found that to be unsettling. I was alive when I took the essence!
When he arrived at their apartments, Vaush wasn’t present and had left word that a last-minute engagement with Prince Khale Warbrenger had been arranged and could not be avoided. Meanwhile, she’d marked a passage in the Archives that she wanted him to view.
The burning rose from his neck up to his face. He would never get used to it no matter how many times they rationalized the need for Vaush to keep seeing Khale and to politically seduce Warbrenger into joining forces with the Hinter Worlds.
His fists clenched and his nostrils flared at the thought of Khale sitting close to Vaush, leaning in for hushed conversations. His wife should be here, greeting him with a warm meal and keeping their home in order! He squeezed his eyes shut as the warring raged inside. He’d married an empress, whatever archaic views he’d formerly entertained concerning the proper role for a wife had to be cast aside. He’d sworn to be her faithful, obedient servant carrying out her will in all things. The only place he truly exercised full control and authority was there—he glanced at the bedroom, the one place where he was the empress’ lord and master.
Vaush would be home soon and any lingering aggression he felt at that time could be fully exercised in the confines of their bedroom, as he poured every ounce of his angst into their lovemaking.
He headed into the study and unlocked the armoire where they kept the Bramech. Vaush had thought it was important for him to view a particular passage. Perhaps it was a lead on where Grusonious might be holding Ahmed’s family. So far, the leads they’d provided to Captain Yaeger hadn’t panned out. He sat on the leather-upholstered sofa and engaged the Bramech.
Within seconds, Comron was no longer in the Lion Palace but was shocked to find himself in the halls of Northridge Castle. Had Vaush marked the wrong passage, he wondered as the telepathic recording played.
Young Prince Crausin—Comron read the time stamp and quickly did the math—was eight years old at this time and had just finished his morning riding lesson. He was full of exuberance as he entered the south entrance of Northridge Hall along with his instructor Morland. It was both amusing and heartbreaking to see Crausin so young, innocent, and unjaded.
“… talk to Father. I know that he would listen to you,” Crausin said in the high-pitched voice of an eight-year-old. “You can convince him that I am ready to compete in my class. Even though I’m little, you’ve said that—”
“Sire,” Morland interrupted, grasping the boy by the shoulders as he directed his attention down the hall.
Crausin’s ruddy face drained of color as he saw his father, the Grand Duke of Nethic, striding toward them, outfitted in formal riding gear. Comron recognized one of his older cousins with Edred, dressed in similar attire.
“No …,” Crausin said weakly. The sight of the riding crop in Edred’s hand made the boy cringe.
“He has already seen you, Sire,” Morland said.
“Please s
tay, Morland. Father likes you,” the boy pleaded, “He won’t strike me with you present.”
Morland gestured for silence as Edred Van Laven drew near.
“How was this morning’s ride, Mr. Morland?”
“It was an excellent ride, Your Grace. The boy shows remarkable talent for his age. I think that you would be well pleased with the results if you allowed him to compete against his peers.”
“Are you daft?” Edred scoffed, “Let this wearisome little twit compete when he couldn’t even jump a simple fence astride a prized stallion without killing it?”
“Sire, that was a tragic accident—”
“Tragic accidents seem to abound in his presence. He has been nothing but trouble from the beginning,” he said, his fingers tightening around the riding crop.
“Forgive me, Sire, I spoke rashly,” Morland said, reaching for Crausin. “We must be on our way; I don’t want the prince to be late for his history lesson.”
Edred’s hand shot out with the riding crop, halting their passage. “I will see to it that he arrives on time. Now, escort Dunstin to the stables. He’s eager to see the new mare I’ve been boasting about. I will be there directly.”
Morland glanced down at the boy, then back to Edred. “Please, Sire. I wish to finish discussing this morning’s ride with the Prince.”
“Mr. Morland, I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Unless you wish to be dismissed, you will obey my orders.”
“I am sorry, my lord,” Morland said, glancing down at the boy, “Very sorry.” He escorted Dunstin away.
The moment that they were alone, the inquisition began. “What in the blazes possessed you to steal my horse and attempt such an asinine stunt?”
Young Crausin trembled keeping an eye on the riding crop. “You did the very same thing when you were my age. Hurtz told me,” he said in a small voice.
“I was much older than you at the time and a far more experienced rider,” Edred snapped. “Impudence compelled you to do this foolish thing, pushing Champion beyond her limits.”
“But Champion cleared the wall,” the Prince said, daring to raise his eyes to Edred. “Father, I wanted you to be proud of me for being a strong rider like you. I didn’t mean to hurt Champion.”
“The only thing that you’ve proven is your uncanny ability to destroy all that is good and beautiful in my world. Champion isn’t hurt; she is dead, just like your mother!”
The boy froze at the mention of his mother, Cristalla, dead only a year now. “I’m sorry. I loved Champion and never—”
“Sorry!” Edred raised the riding crop and struck the prince on the arm. “Do you think sorry will compensate me for the loss of the mare.”
Crausin shrank back, holding his arm. Comron remembered Crausin telling him that Edred never struck him in the face where all could witness his cruelty.
“Will sorry bring him back?” Edred continued the assault, striking the boy’s body without mercy, the sound of the whip whistling through the air. “Will sorry bring your mother back?”
Crausin fell to the floor and curled into a ball as he begged for Edred’s forgiveness.
“Forgive you? Champion is dead!” The duke loomed over the boy. “Get to your feet,” he barked.
When Crausin remained balled up on the floor, Edred kicked the boy hard. “I gave you an order!”
Holding his side and trembling, Crausin struggled to stand. It seemed it hurt even to breathe.
He gazed up at the duke with large green eyes, Cristalla’s eyes, and Comron saw the ache in Edred’s face. He knew precisely what Edred was thinking—if Crausin had never been born, his beloved wife never would have succumbed to the madness triggered by his birth, and she would still be with him.
“You destroyed Champion just as surely as you destroyed your mother!” He hollered, backhanding Crausin so hard that the boy pitched into the wall. “You will ask for forgiveness, but not of me!” he shouted as he grabbed the boy by the arm, dragging him back down the corridor toward the oldest parts of Northridge Castle.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Crausin cried, as he struggled against him. “I will never do it again. Please don’t put me in the cellar. I promise, I’ll be good. Please, Father, please!”
But his pleading fell upon deaf ears and young Crausin tumbled down the stairs into the darkness of the ancient cellar. The door slammed shut and the bolt clanked into place. He sat at the bottom of the stairs sobbing as he nursed his injured shoulder.
“Why did you leave us, mama?” young Crausin wept. “What did I do to make you leave?”
In the midst of his tears and anguish, something caught his attention. He looked up, sniffed the air, and then frowned covering his nose. Curious, he stumbled along in the darkness until his foot struck something. He knelt down in the darkness and felt it with his hands. He recoiled when he discovered it was a horse’s carcass lying on the floor before him, skinned of its coat so that its raw flesh was exposed.
Young Crausin screamed so loudly Comron hoped that the whole household would come running to rescue the boy. But the only thing that happened was that the little bit of light suddenly died. Screaming at the top of his lungs Crausin ran back up the stairs and banged wildly on the door.
“Let me out! Let me out! Help!” he screamed on end. Over the screams, Comron could hear hoof beats drawing closer and the deranged whinnying of an injured horse. Crausin looked down the stairwell to find two burning red eyes staring back at him. “Ahhh,” he screamed and clawed at the door. “Help, somebody help me!” The demon horse was coming closer, coming up the stairs, coming ….
Inexplicably, the prince extended his hand and ran back down the stairs as if he were being pulled along. He skimmed passed the gruesome carcass and went under the staircase to a door. He went inside the storage space and hid.
Crausin’s eyes were still wide with horror but gazed straight ahead into the darkness of the storage room.
Champion’s corpse thrashed and whinnied madly outside.
Crausin trembled and his teeth chattered in his head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an—”
Edred, you sick, demented monster! Comron thought, assuming the horse carcass was some robotic creation he’d conjured to teach the boy a lesson.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” young Crausin spoke his inquiries into the darkness, to no one. He inclined his head as if listening to an answer. “You’ve eyes just like mine. Are you family? Did you come with cousin Dunston this morning?”
Comron’s brow furrowed. “What the hell?” He watched as the fear melted from young Crausin’s face and he peered into the darkness.
“Won’t you tell me your name?” After a few seconds, young Crausin’s eyes lit up. He wiped his hand on his shirt and then extended it in greeting. “Hello Comron. What an interesting name; I like it very much. I am called Crausin after my great grandfather.”
Comron felt a cold shriek of terror run through him. Crausin had always told him they’d been friends since childhood. That for forty years they had been dearest companions. This was the moment they’d “met.”
Crausin’s eyes glistened as only a desperately lonely child’s could at meeting a dear friend. “Yes, let’s be the very best of friends for all of our lives.”
Comron was numb as he sat and watched him laugh and play until one of the Castle servants found him sleeping under the cellar stairs. And then Comron watched as Crausin threw a violent tantrum when the servants claimed they could not see any little boy present other than himself.
Unable to watch anymore, Comron disengaged the Bramech to find Vaush sitting on the sofa next to him, patiently waiting for him to finish.
“Did you know about any of that?” she asked softly, her mood still affected by what she’d witnessed in the cellar. Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?”
Comron shook his head in silence. After a moment he finally said, “The level of malicious cruelty we Van Laven’s have exacted upon each other is criminal. Cr
ausin has referenced that occurrence but never conveyed the extent of the debilitating trauma.” He looked at her with a fierce look in his eyes. “Crausin became a master at psychological torment in his own right, make no mistake about that. But when you look at that—he was just a child when Edred started shattering his mind, constantly blaming him for his mother’s death and then diabolical shite like that. Is it any wonder he turned out the way he did?” He rubbed his brow as he recalled his most recent conversation with his younger brother, Rhence. Crausin was coming undone much sooner than he’d anticipated.
“He called his imaginary childhood friend Comron,” Vaush said, inclining her head at him. “Why would he call him by your name?”
He took a deep tremulous breath, too afraid to reveal to Vaush the true extent of Crausin’s madness. After all, if he was Crausin’s genetic duplicate ….
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “He named me after his childhood friend, because he believes we are one and the same.”
Vaush’s brow drew low. “How can he believe that when you weren’t even born until he was nineteen years old?”
He closed his eyes. He couldn’t carry the weight of the burden on his own anymore. “He believes my spirit has been with him since that day in the cellar. That my spirit instructed him to make a genetic duplicate of himself, and that I would come to dwell in that body he’d created for me.” He lifted his eyes to her and saw the bewilderment and a hint of fear in them.
“And he really believes this?” she said in astonishment. “So that’s why he views your leaving as such a deep betrayal. The embodiment of his mind’s delusion is abandoning him.” She shook her head. “How can you even begin to reason with someone so divorced from reality?”
“You can’t. Either I stay and enable the delusion,” he lowered his eyes, “as I have on occasion, or I break away completely leaving him to self-destruct under the belief that I betrayed him the way everyone else who he’s ever loved has.” When he saw the puzzled look in her eyes, he added, “First his mother, who committed suicide when he was seven, leaving him to the sadistically cruel care of his father. After years of dealing out all manner of violent abuse, Edred died in an accident just before I was born. Just prior to that, Crausin had opened himself up to romantic love, but had the misfortune of falling in love with Meglyn Malvoy, a high-priced whore who loosely resembled his mother. She utterly crushed him, destroying his ability to connect emotionally with anyone else since.”