It wasn’t Tadraem.
Who could have come to him like that, in the guise of another, knowing years before it would occur that he would find himself here — turning his back on everything he’d ever known?
Could it have been my father?
He questioned then his assumption that Tadraem had been lying to him about his father’s betrayal.
Ariana stirred and his thoughts were drawn to her having been in observance. He’d walked the length of the humans’ pew — he had to have stood right behind her at some point during the service. She’d been within his reach, and he’d walked right past her. Why was she here? Why was she here alone? She had to be. There was no way Michael would have let her anywhere near Eidolon, with or without escort — unless he was unaware. Then, he found himself hoping that Michael would discover her absence. As sure as it meant his own demise, it was her only hope. He couldn’t risk leaving now, not with the attention they’d just brought to the outer courts.
“Michael,” she moaned and moved her head, drawing labored breaths. Her bleeding had slowed, but the pain would only intensify as the night wore on.
“Michael will be here soon,” he whispered. He touched her cheek with his hand, as he’d done that day in the woods. Had it been such a short time ago?
He stayed awake long into the night, looking at her, hoping that some idea would come to him — something that perhaps he’d overlooked — a way out of all of this. But nothing ever came, and he eventually gave in to sleep.
Sunlight streamed through the small window at the top of the cell. He opened his eyes, forgetting where he was until he heard the loud footsteps of the guard coming down the hallway. Garren laid the girl down, rushed to conceal himself and watched as the guard came into the cell. He leaned down to take her pulse and every muscle in Garren’s body tensed as he waited for the guard’s response.
The guard lingered for a moment before calling out to his friend, “She’s not alive!”
Garren almost lost his composure. The other guard entered the cell and pressed his hand to her neck.
“Yes she is. You couldn’t hear it over the rush of hot air in your head!” He stood up and scowled. “Let’s go. It’s time to eat. I can’t be expected to finish my duties on an empty belly.”
Garren waited until he was sure they were gone before he bent over her to check for a heartbeat himself, and though it had weakened considerably during the night, it was still there. He kissed her forehead, noticing that her temperature had dropped and she no longer responded to the chill in the air.
He had no choice. He would ready his Dragee and carry her to their borders. He could think of nothing else as a viable option. He tucked his cloak tighter around her and laid her in the driest corner of the cell. There was a small area where the light hit that had warmed it just a bit from the coolness of the rest of the room. He smoothed her hair from her face and whispered, “I will come back for you.”
He took the cell keys and raced to his chambers. Once inside, he threw on a new shirt and cloak and filled a small satchel with minor supplies. He opened the doors to his wardrobe and pulled a shield and breastplate from inside. Laying the shield aside, he pulled the breastplate over his shirt, refastening his cloak when he’d finished. He traded his riding boots for a heavier pair, fastened his vambraces and greaves on his forearms and shins. It hit him then that he would be forced to fight his own men if things went badly. He’d grown fond of many of them, oddly more so over the last two weeks. Not that he had been entirely uninterested before, but he had never paid them much attention. Now, he realized all too late they meant more to him than whatever skill they brought to the battlefield.
He grabbed his satchel and headed down the hall. Whenever he heard someone approaching, he concealed himself until they’d passed. Once he’d reached the solitude of the stables, he saw the Dragee were restless. Perhaps they’d sensed something was coming. He felt it too and hoped it was Michael. It would take them nearly a day to reach Eidolon. Garren had reached Adorian borders much faster on the back of a Dragee, but a regular horse was far too slow. The only way for Michael to reach Eidolon faster would be to fly, though he’d never seen Adorians make such a long journey airborne and thus assumed they couldn’t.
“Ride swiftly, Michael,” he whispered. He thought his words had gone unheard until he felt a sword upon him.
The blade did minor damage when it hit, but only because it struck his breastplate, which was concealed beneath his cloak. He spun on his heels to find Tadraem facing him.
“And to think I once believed you were so different from Seth, incapable of his treasonous ways.”
“Treason? What right have you to claim treason when it’s you who have been plotting against me? You, who claim to be my mentor and friend — I trusted you once.”
Tadraem sneered, “Ah, trust, another of your father’s errors, though not his gravest. Not by a long shot. I had such plans for you, Garren. You don’t know what I have done for you, how I stood behind you even while the Laionai wanted to strip you of your power. How I spared you the dark truths of your past.”
“How you’ve spared me? Spared me what? The only darkness in my past is how you killed my father, how you betrayed him just as you betray me now.”
Tadraem shook his head. “No, Garren, Seth wasn’t my friend. He was many things, but never my friend. And you’re wrong about the darkness of your past — I’d hoped for years that it wouldn’t matter. The moment I heard you utter Adorian, I knew you’d inherited more than your mother’s blood. You’ve inherited her sickness as well; those vile, wretched traits they call mercy and goodness.”
Garren’s head spun as he struggled to find his bearings. “My mother … was Adorian?”
Tadraem shrugged. “Don’t act so shocked. I know who you harbored at your breast through the night, who you’ve given up your title for — your life, once the Laionai are told.”
Garren tried to summon his powers, anything, but found himself completely bereft.
“The Laionai giveth, and the Laionai taketh away.” Tadraem sauntered over to a partial wall, laughing. “You are insignificant in their plans now, expendable. You could have been the Oni and there was a time that we thought you — ”
Micah didn’t even have to mind his steps; Tadraem was far too involved in his own self-righteousness to hear him. The boy swung fast and hard, the sword held in both hands, its height nearly twice his. The blade came against the soft flesh of Tadraem’s neck, the force alone causing the boy to stumble. Tadraem’s body fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, headless.
Micah slipped from the wall but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground and grappled with his footing as he lowered himself down the stones to stand.
Garren was too consumed by the echo of Tadraem’s revelation in his ears to respond.
“My Lord?”
Garren forced himself to look up but still couldn’t speak.
“Forgive me, I thought it was the only way.” Micah’s eyes grew wide in sudden doubt of his actions.
“No, no, I owe you my life. I…”
“I came to find you because Aiden is on his way to the Laionai. I saw him entering the temple.”
“Then I don’t have long before they release the Moriors.” After a moment’s pause, Garren shook himself from his disbelief and grabbed his own sword from its holster on the Dragee. He fastened the sheath over his shoulder. “I’m taking her to Michael. I don’t know if I’ll return.” He turned to face the boy. “I doubt that I’ll be received well by the Adorians when I arrive. If I live, I will return for you. Keep yourself in the shadows until you either hear of my death or you see me again.”
Micah looked at him, eyes wide. “Can I come with you? Michael won’t kill you if you’re with me, I know it.”
Garren shook his head. “I can’t risk it, Micah. I need to focus all of my attention on her right now. If I am to watch out for both of you, I may put all of us in harm’s way. Do you unders
tand?” Micah seemed to take his word for it, though it didn’t please him. “You have to trust me on this. If it’s within my power, I will come back for you, I swear it.”
Ariana knew she was dreaming, but even in her sleep she couldn’t escape the blinding pain that started at her ankles and radiated to a sharp, hot point in her chest.
“Ssh, ssh, sweet one, I’m here.”
Strong arms came beneath her and she was hoisted against something warm and solid — something soft. It smelled good. It reminded her of someone.
“Michael is coming for you, he’s almost here. Just hold on a little longer.”
“Father?” The sound of her own voice sounded strange, far away. So far away.
“Ssh, ssh, stay still, Ari. It’s alright.” His voice, while soothing to her ears, brought a new kind of terror into her heart because she’d never heard him sound so afraid, so unsure.
“Am I dying?”
For a long moment, the only response she received was a choked sob. She felt his chest tighten and for a moment she thought she heard someone else, someone speaking nearby in a language she didn’t understand. It was a beautiful sound, ethereal. But the second voice soon silenced and she could no longer tell if she’d heard it at all.
He kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “I love you.” And everything faded away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHY WOULD
I BELIEVE YOU?
N
ever had Michael been so frustrated by the slow pace of those who accompanied them. This time it was two thousand elite Adorian knights on horseback. He kept his mind quieted, focusing only on the sound of hooves galloping over earth and mire. Only once did he let his mind consider that he might find her already dead, and it seized his chest so that he couldn’t breathe. He pushed it from his head; he couldn’t consider that as a possibility. It would congest his thoughts and create vulnerability that they couldn’t afford.
The scouts had returned with Ariana’s horse only a half-hour earlier, bow still in the case attached to the saddle. This only served to heighten Michael’s concern for his sister’s welfare. Not only was she ignorant of the ways of Eidolon but she was without the weapons he had once condemned.
They were barely at the edges of the woods near Eidolon when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. They’d lost her tracks somewhere around Fools Marsh but had picked them up shortly after. He slowed his horse and turned around. Trotting back to where he’d seen it, he then dismounted and began to scour the ground. As soon as he saw it, he fell to his knees. Several of the men around him stopped.
Roahn was the first to speak. “What?”
Michael reached for a pile of brown cloth on the ground, covered in a dark red stain. It was torn in several places. His hand shook as he brought it closer to him. He put the cloak close to his face and breathed in. It was hers. He held out the fabric, stretching it to the light to see where she’d been hit.
“It’s Ariana’s,” Jareth said, coming to a stop. He dismounted and stood next to Michael. “If she’s been injured, then we’re wasting time.” He leaned into Michael, whispering. “Michael, this isn’t proof of death. If she were killed, she would’ve been left here. Don’t let this cloud your reason.”
“Then let us be quick.” Michael burst into the air with a quick movement of his wings and was in the saddle of his horse, digging in his heels as they tore off back toward Eidolon.
They’d already discussed positions prior to leaving Adoria. Michael’s sole objective, aided immediately by Roahn and two other Braeden, was to find Ariana. Jareth, Caedmon and Kendall led two separate groups of Adorians who were to surround him, clearing the way. Duncan led yet another group of Braeden whose sole purpose was to check all the cells they knew of, entering the tunnels beneath Eidolon from a secret door that Duncan had used in the past. They were all counting on their enemy’s lack of preparation. By the time the other Ereubinians were alerted, they’d be well within the city walls.
Duncan and his thirty Braeden headed for the tunnels as Michael gave the order to attack. The Adorian knights took to the skies, leaving their horses in the shelter of the Netherwoods, and crossed the barren field on silent wings. They flew over the high walls of Eidolon with a select group of Adorians assigned to open the southern gate.
Passing through into the human portion of the city, they were met with no opposition as they took to the ground to begin the search for Ariana. They raced through thick crowds of aimless faces. It wasn’t until they were past the center wall that they had any use for their drawn swords.
Ereubinian soldiers flooded from the castle. Most were unarmed and scrambled to find weapons. The element of surprise was working well in their favor. Michael’s greatest fear though, was not the flesh and blood of Ereubinian lineage, but the Moriors. They would sense Adorian presence before long. The sting of an arrow grazing Michael’s forearm caught his attention. He whipped around to see an Ereubinian crossbow aimed at him. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied his bow. The reason Adorians had never even considered crossbows were because they were slow and clumsy. Michael had deftly fired two shots, mortally wounding the soldier, before he’d even loaded his second bolt.
Drake and Meridian, the other two Braeden who were with Michael, were pulled away separately by fending off groups of soldiers, leaving only Roahn and Michael together by the time they’d crossed the dividing wall.
Riding as close as they could to one another, Michael looked to Roahn for instruction. The Braeden obviously knew far more about the layout. Roahn pointed toward the castle and yelled something Michael couldn’t hear over the sounds of battle. He nodded and followed him.
As soon as they reached the castle steps, Michael pulled his sword from its sheath and dismounted. He spotted Garren.
Garren had blood on his pants and Michael knew whose blood it had to be. Having wounded his sister, Garren must have prepared for this. Rage overcame any rational thoughts and Michael flew at him, sword bared. Garren barely had time to react, raising his own sword in defense.
The loud roar of battle could be heard from all sides, but the fierceness and speed with which Michael wielded his sword was unmatched. Garren wasn’t putting up a fight, or so it seemed, but merely deflecting the blows. Michael caught him several times in the arms and torso.
Roahn had his hands full staving off those who tried to come to Garren’s aid at the base of the steps.
Garren shook his fist in the air. “Michael! Listen to me.”
Michael didn’t care to hear a word from his mouth. He swung harder, his blade glancing off of Garren’s, screaming metal against metal.
“Michael, she is …”
Michael didn’t let him finish. He thrust his sword again at him, their blades crossing several times before Garren turned and pinned Michael against a large stone wall.
Using his hands and body weight, Michael knocked Garren to the ground, where he slid to a stop against the opposite wall.
Michael swung down on him hard, but Garren rolled from beneath its path, leaving the sword to clatter loudly against the ground.
Garren held his free hand up at Michael, the other still griping his sword. Both were out of breath. Michael paused for only a moment to see that he’d lost sight of Roahn, before coming at Garren again full force.
Suddenly, someone who’d come up unnoticed behind Michael caught Garren’s attention. Michael turned around just in time to see Garren duck from Michael’s sword and knock the Ereubinian unconscious with the handle of his blade.
“How kind of you, making sure that if I die on this day that it’s by your hands alone. Haven’t you taken enough from me?” Hot tears stung Michael’s eyes, and he angrily wiped them away. He was out of breath, more from his fury than anything else. He’d begun to fight poorly in his rage and he knew it. Garren was just toying with him.
“Michael, I know that you’re here for your sister.”
“And what
is it about Ariana that so cools your blood? What has she done that warrants this? What triumph does her death bring Ciara?” Simply speaking of Ariana quickened Michael’s pulse and he lost it. Blind delirium flooded his senses and he could no longer hear Garren’s words. It was either Garren’s death or his own that would finish it. He raised his sword again.
“Taoth islo shule. Ou toole nertho!”
Michael froze. He’d lost his mind. He stared at Garren, whose lips he saw moving, but it was Adorian speech that he heard.
Garren turned his sword in his hands to point the tip at his own chest and went down on one knee, offering the handle of the blade to Michael. He lowered his head.
“What did you say?” Michael approached him, still keeping his own sword aimed at Garren. He couldn’t tell what Garren intended with this move.
“She is alive, please, we have no time for this.”
Michael, from a safe enough distance, took the tip of his sword and tipped Garren’s face up. “You apparently have no need for such weapons; I’ve seen your handiwork on the face of one of my bravest Adorians.”
Garren closed his eyes. Michael saw frustration and fear. He wasn’t sure which confused him more. The amount of blood on his clothes told him the likelihood of this being a lie was better than even, but there was no denying Garren’s words were Adorian.
“I didn’t ride out after you that night,” Garren continued. “I knew that Micah had not returned alone. I could’ve come after you with an entire army, but I chose not to. Have I ever shown mercy before now? Please, Michael, I know you have no reason to believe me. What I ask is that you have faith in my words for her sake. I’ll gladly give you my life after she is taken from here. But let me take you to her.”
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