“Why is Adoria spared when Middengard has fallen so far?”
“I can’t say that we have been, Ariana. The divide that protects us is an unknown thing, unspoken of in any of the histories or scrolls. We can’t count on its strength in all situations — though some would tell you differently. The Adorian language is a living language, sustained by light, and can’t be spoken by those who are born of Middengard, whether they are of dark lineage or not. We are the only ones who can pass the divide or usher another in. We know that the divide and the language are tied together, but not how.”
Rising to his feet, Michael motioned toward the untouched food. “You really should eat something, or at the very least try.”
She nodded, “Are you leaving so soon?”
Michael nodded apologetically. “The winter festival approaches. Rumor, I’m afraid, has already begun about your arrival. I had hoped to let you settle in a bit first, but the council has suggested formally introducing you on the eve of Lisida Olein, when there will be a feast and the celebration of the winter moon. I agree. I think you’ll enjoy yourself, maybe see a lighter side of our realm.”
She nodded, remaining silent as he left. All she could think of was Sara. Here, Ariana sat in embroidered finery, and her dearest friend — if she’d survived the siege at all — may fear her every breath.
She did not sleep well that night.
CHAPTER TEN
INFANTILE EFFORTS
G
arren paced in front of his Dragee’s stall. He’d been there for over an hour, trying to decide whether to ride out or not. Finally, he leaned against the wall and looked down at the dirt floor of the stables.
Just as it was prior to their departure for Palingard, it had remained. He removed his glove and touched the cool earth, letting the dirt fall through his fingers. It felt the same, smelled the same. Perhaps his whole world hadn’t fallen apart, and yet, when he thought about it, it wasn’t so much that his world had changed, but like he’d stepped into a world he’d never seen before. The closest thing he could liken it to in his experience was the immediate relief upon waking from a nightmare.
He paced the Dragee at first, moving quietly through the back roads of the city. His path, covered in shadow, helped him evade his guards. He neared the gates to the city, and came upon several watchmen who fell to their knees at his approach.
“My Lord.”
Garren, in no mood for idle chatter, didn’t pause to acknowledge the salutation. He picked up the pace as soon as he was beyond their sight, rushing through the barren landscape. It was late in the day and the sun had begun to fall below the horizon. The hours had felt long since the previous evening’s observance and the countless moments he’d spent in the sanctuary following it.
The crisp air stung him as he rode. The farther from Eidolon he traveled, the colder it became, the bite of the winter wind taking his mind off what truly had him shivering.
As he came to the edge of the field and entered the peaceful woods, he slowed his Dragee to a walk. He had been riding through these parts of the forest since he was a small boy. He remembered playing among the trees. He could still smell the pine and hear the snap of the branches below his feet as he ran.
He had been about ten at the time. Tadraem had walked with him to the stream and the waterfall that day. They had crawled to sit on an enormous log that had fallen across the expanse of the falls and had gotten soaked from the spray of the water. Garren could not recall all of their conversation, but a few bits and pieces remained. Tadraem told Garren things about his father that he’d never mentioned before — things that he would not speak of again.
They had sat peering over the waterfall, the roar filling their ears and making it difficult to hear one another. Garren reached into his pocket and took out a handful of rocks. He picked them up, one at a time, to throw them. Tadraem patted him on the back, causing Garren to stop for a second, soaking in the affection. Tadraem, though much like a father to him, didn’t openly show affection.
“You remind me of your father,” Tadraem had said. “Have I ever told you that?”
“No. But you have described him to me before. He had dark hair like mine, and was tall — like I want to be when I grow up. Is that what you mean?”
“In a way. But there is more to a man than his appearance. You have his laugh for example, and you are just as stubborn as he was. You do have his hair color, and you have the same brown eyes, but you physically favor your mother.”
“I thought you never knew my mother.”
Tadraem had looked out over the water and then back to Garren. “I knew your mother well.” He sighed deeply. “Your father fell very much in love with her.”
“But she was a human,” Garren had cried, bewildered. “They can’t think or reason as we do. You have told me that much yourself.”
“I have told you many things that are perhaps not always true. Without a soul, one can do very little outside of subsisting. Your father very much had a soul and therefore, the ability to love. Just because it is forbidden does not mean that it does not exist. Ereubinians may not be allowed to be companions to one another, but have you ever heard of two that have had feelings for each other?” Tadraem had asked.
Garren had not hesitated to answer his question.
“One of the boys in my lessons …” he had paused with fear in his eyes.
Tadraem had leaned over and cupped Garren’s small chin with his hand.
“You may say anything here without repercussions. I have told you things that I have never said before and you may do the same. Today, we are honest with each other.”
“One of the boys in my lessons kissed one of the girls last week; no one saw it but me, but I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want them to be mad at me.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Tadraem had laughed. “You did the right thing in not telling on them. Emotion is not something that’s easily kept away, even with laws and punishment. Your father fell in love with your mother, even upon fear of death.”
“Have you ever known love in this way?” Garren had asked.
Tadraem had curled his hand to his chest as he spoke. “Without fault. Without question, or hesitation.” He had closed his eyes. “I love but her and her alone.”
Garren had struggled to understand what Tadraem was talking about, the expression on his face displaying his confusion.
“I cannot tell you her name or anything more. But I can tell you there will come a day when you will be given a choice. Two paths will be laid before you and one of them will be against everything you’ve been taught.”
“But you’ll be there with me, right?”
“I cannot promise that. Don’t forget what I have told you. Put these things out of your mind for now and ask me not about them later. Set aside this memory for that day.”
They’d continued to talk for some time, but past that Garren could recollect very little. In fact, he hadn’t thought about that conversation for years and had never recalled it with such clarity. Tadraem must have briefly doubted the Laionai — this was several years before he had failed his crusade against Palingard. He’d become weak in his faith and it had cost him his victory. Garren gnashed his teeth, the hard muscles of his jaw stiffening in response. I will not let the ramblings of a lesser Ereubinian keep me from what is rightfully mine.
Very little stood between him and Adoria. The barrier between the realms would become inconsequential, just as the Goddess had foretold. It was only a matter of time. With their realm no longer protected, Adoria would begin to crumble. Even their best fighters couldn’t contend with an army as strong as the one the Laionai had just commissioned.
The Ereubinians knew there were some who didn’t have wings. They had run into them on occasion and suspected their involvement anytime a human village won against them.
There was a long history of bad blood between Garren and Michael, their fight now having become a matter of personal vengeance. Their last b
attle had been particularly nasty, leaving Garren with a deep scar at the line of his jaw. Michael was foolish for not killing him when he had the chance. There was no honor in clemency and it had sickened him to see it in Michael’s eyes as he rose from where he had pinned Garren to the ground. Michael had left him with an idle threat, slicing Garren’s skin as he pulled the sword away: “Next time, I will not be so merciful.”
Garren could feel his adrenaline rushing as he thought of Michael. Garren would revel in Adoria’s fall and would see to it personally that Michael was kept alive long enough to see his empire destroyed. The Adorians’ involvement with the human realm was nothing more than an elaborate facade. They were only interested in power for themselves. He remembered the reactions of the few wingless men whom he’d encountered over the years and though the Adorians’ compassion appeared real enough, he wasn’t deceived. He vividly recalled an instance in particular with one of them.
The Ereubinians’ efforts to take Ruiari were hindered greatly by several men well trained in the art of combat. Garren had begun to suspect they were in fact not human at all. He rode near one of them and grabbed the first human he encountered — an adolescent girl. She had screamed and tried to free herself from him, but Garren was much stronger and held the girl without any struggle on his part. He looked over at the Adorian and brought his knife to the girl’s throat. The Adorian noticed it right away and rode closer. Garren turned toward him and pressed the knife barely into the girl’s flesh. She cried out in pain, which only provoked the Adorian even more.
“Let her go and I will lay down my arms.”
Garren laughed. “Do you take me for a fool? Tell me, being not of this realm, what significance does this girl’s life have for you?”
The Adorian threw down his sword and rode with his hands held above his head in surrender. “It’s of no consequence to you what this girl means to me. I offer my life for hers — more than a fair trade. I’ll go without resistance, I give you my word.”
“Your words are meaningless, but you may have confidence in mine. Your interference in Ruiari has cost this girl any pity I might have had for her. Perhaps this will teach you to leave matters alone that don’t concern you.” Garren lowered his knife and drove it into the girl’s side. He watched as the expression on the Adorian’s face grew cold. The Adorian tried to force Garren from his saddle by charging his horse into the Dragee. The Dragee easily resisted the charge by craning his long neck, grabbing hold of the Adorian’s horse with its wicked jaws and tossing it to the ground. The Adorian landed in a pile of broken bones and armor. Dazed, he cried out in Adorian and crawled toward the girl. Garren rode on, turning around to see the Adorian cradle the girl’s lifeless body in his arms.
Garren was still deep in thought when he came to a clearing. He turned right to go around it. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been riding. The sun had set and he was miles from where he had entered the woods. The moon shone brightly in the sky, casting a blue glow on everything in the forest. He hadn’t gone too far when the Dragee began to resist his lead. Garren pulled the beast’s head toward him with the reins and saw clear agitation. The wind blew through the trees, creating a hollow moan that echoed through the darkness. He stayed frozen, his hand resting on his sword, and within minutes he heard what the finely tuned ears of his Dragee had perceived. The earth shook with the rumbling of hooves. He jumped to the ground, pulling his sword from its scabbard. Searching his surroundings, he was shocked to find nothing. He peered into the woods but detected no movement save the slight sway of the trees against the breeze. He remained still, all of his senses fixed on discerning the source. As the sound grew closer, he leaned into his Dragee and whispered a command, “Tradekh ealo.” The Dragee lay on the ground and rolled onto its side. Garren crouched, laying one leg over the beast, across the saddle.
Suddenly, from the middle of the field, a group of ten Adorian riders emerged. Garren stared wordless as the men materialized out of thin air. They tore through the clearing and into the dense woods on the other side. After seeing what he assumed was the last of them come into view, he tugged at the reins. The Dragee rose to its feet and Garren slid back into his saddle.
As he raced through the woods, his eyes flared momentarily violet as he cloaked himself and the Dragee in a spell of silence. He wove through the trees until he was parallel with the closest rider and ran him through with his blade. The Dragee dipped its head and dug its teeth into the horse’s leg, pulling it to the ground.
He pulled his second sword from its sheath as he ran between two more riders. Deftly brandishing the blades, he slew both men with one fluid cross-swing. Their severed bodies fell from their horses. The Dragee recoiled then gathered momentum and leapt in front of the horses, tearing at the throat of one with its claws and sinking its teeth into the chest of the other.
The sounds of the slaughter alerted the others, who turned in their tracks. Garren slowed as he came upon them, blood still dripping from his weapons. He glared at the seven remaining riders, his Dragee emitting a guttural growl. One of the riders who had been farthest from Garren moved in front of the others to face him. Garren recognized him as Caedmon. These weren’t just Adorian riders — these were Michael’s men.
Caedmon aggressively extended his wings, casting a shadow in the moonlight. Garren slid his swords back into their sheaths as Caedmon’s horse grew restless, stirring beneath him.
Garren sighed and draped one hand over the other. “You are indebted to me; I’ve just relieved you of three of your most pitiable fighters.”
Caedmon pulled on the reins to settle his horse, then held up a hand to his men. “Louthairo toul eralaun doe aronai.” All but one of the men seemed to agree with his command.
“An tiroknow toul eralaun, nigh allolost,” the second Adorian yelled. Caedmon looked at him, but before he could respond, the soldier rushed forward, unsheathing his sword as he came at Garren.
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver a message for me,” Garren said, narrowing his eyes.
Without warning or any action on Garren’s part, deep slashes cut across the charging Adorian’s face. Crying out in pain, his hands flew to cover his bleeding skin, dropping the reins.
The other men were still as blood poured down the Adorian’s face. Unable to see and shuddering in anguish, he slipped from the saddle.
“Please inform Michael that I grow weary of his ineptitude and that if he intends to continue this game, he might consider not insulting me further by sending such infantile efforts.”
Garren did not wait to hear a reply as he headed for Eidolon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DEAD BY DECREE
I
t felt like a lifetime had passed since Palingard’s fall. Ariana was fairly sure it had been mere days, but it could’ve been weeks for all her tired bones knew.
She stayed mostly in her chambers, resting and healing from both her twisted ankle and wounded side. Michael checked on her frequently, joyful one moment and grievously brusque the next. As if his silence concerning all things of value to her — namely Adoria’s intentions for Middengard — weren’t enough, his tremulous moods aggravated her almost beyond bearing.
Also irritating was the adolescent chambermaid who gushed incessantly about one young Adorian or another. How quickly Ariana had forgotten what it was like to be so young and how grateful she was to be beyond it.
Avoiding Kaitlyn wasn’t easy — the girl took notice of just about anything Ariana did or said, remembering it with startling and annoying accuracy. As soon as the girl was otherwise engaged, Ariana made her way in cloaked anonymity to the outer hall. Wandering the corridors, she took the path she recalled having walked with Jenner, finally coming to the pavilion where she’d found Duncan.
Her father’s dearest friend had asked to see her on more than one occasion and she’d found herself, for once, pleased to have someone to turn guests away at her whim.
How could he? After everything, all
of his stupid empty promises, the time he spent teaching me skills that he obviously learned here.
Ariana laughed indignantly, more than a little mystified at her father’s disdain for what he had told her were crutches for those unwilling to fight for their own dying world. Not only was Gabriel wrong, he was a hypocrite. Perhaps he was ashamed of her, wanting nothing of her brash, untempered gracelessness to stain his revered homeland.
She shook her head, anger welling in her gut, and walked into the open. The wind hit her face, threatening to push back her hood, so she held it close with one hand. She had begun to hate the cold but felt trapped whenever she was inside for very long.
As her brother already suspected, rumors concerning the arrival of Gabriel’s daughter had quickly spread through Cyphrus. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Michael was King and not a powerless figurehead as he claimed.
She came finally to the markets, which, unlike in Palingard, were located on long cobblestone alleys to shield them from the fierce winter. Blazing fires lit the middle of the street to warm shoppers.
She took a deep breath, enjoying the sound of life and the smells of breads and fragrant fruits that she would venture to guess did not grow in Middengard. Michael had given her a handful of gold tokens soon after she had arrived, and she had spent only a few, treasuring what was left despite Michael’s promise of providing whatever she needed.
He simply couldn’t understand. They came from different worlds. She knew nothing, save what very little Sara had shared, of court life. She didn’t know how to be anything other than the boisterous child of Palingard that she was. It saddened her a little to think that this would be her new existence and she wondered if Sara would feel at home here or just as lost as she did.
Son of Ereubus Page 10