“Michael has Ariana!” Kendall struggled to land nearby. One of his wings was torn and bleeding. He wore a dark cloak that was fastened high at his neck and covered his chest completely.
As Duncan slid his blade across the second Ereubinian’s throat he asked, “Is she alive?” The fact that Michael had been able to find her this soon was good news. Duncan had just heard from Konner that the cells below the keep were empty, which is where he was certain she’d be.
The scent of sweat and death was heavy in the air. The sounds of rage and grief could be heard in every direction. Memories of Duncan’s past mingled with his training and instincts; a second battle, this one internal, was waged with equal fervor as the one that surrounded him.
“I don’t know. There was a lot of blood ...” Kendall and Duncan both turned as the sounds of fighting grew strangely mute. Whatever was happening, it was just reaching them. “Garren was with them when they left from the eastern gate.”
“Good, he’ll pay for ...”
“He appeared to be riding with them of his own free will. He was fighting alongside them. Roahn signaled for a rear guard, so I sent Harish and Tabor in their wake.”
Duncan looked beyond where they stood to see confusion on every face in sight. No wonder they had ceased blows. Still, loyalty was rare in Eidolon and would no doubt be as short-lived as those who displayed it to the wrong party. “Withdraw now! Get as many of your men as you can out of the city safely, the Braeden can handle themselves. Aerial retreat isn’t ...”
“Jareth has already given the order. They’ll know when to fly,” Kendall smiled wanly as several more Adorian knights dropped down beside him.
“Then why are you still ...”
“We are here to do what you and I both know must be done. Tell Leigh I love her.”
“No! Kendall, this is madness! The tunnels — ”
“The Moriors will not stop until their thirst for blood has been quenched. This time they’ll find more that mere blood and bone.” As Kendall spoke, he pulled his cloak away to reveal that he wore beneath it a chest plate identical to Michael’s. With helmet pulled down, they looked identical. “Gahai werndt daios.”
“There is still time!” Duncan rushed him but reached the spot too late. “Kendall! Damn it! I won’t tell her, do you hear me?” Furious, Duncan reached for the first Ereubinian he saw, completely unimpressed by the Ereubinians’ apparent reluctance to continue fighting.
Rage flooded his senses. He killed without consideration of what his mentors had instilled in him, with no regard to Adorian standards for bloodshed. Eventually, the battle around him caught up with his anger and resumed as if the Ereubinians had never laid down their weapons. In the distance, the first shrill cry was heard as the Moriors were released, but Duncan paid it little mind as he pushed through the battle to the gates.
Jareth caught up with Duncan, cradling his arm to his chest. “Michael and G—”
“I know!” Duncan barked.
“Here, I’ll fly.” Jareth slid from his saddle and held the reins for Duncan to take. “Have you seen Ke—” Before he could finish, a tremendous explosion rocked the ground beneath them and a huge fireball erupted into the sky on the western side of Eidolon. They both covered their heads momentarily as debris rained from above.
Duncan swore an oath in Ereubinian, loud enough for any of the blessed within ear shot to have heard him. “Yeah, I saw Kendall. So did the Moriors — right before he blew them and himself to Hothrendaire.”
Jareth, having caught sight of an approaching Ereubinian, swung the hilt of his sword into the man’s face with as much force as he could muster. As soon as the Ereubinian instinctively grabbed for his injured head, Jareth cut it cleanly from his neck. For a moment, neither Jareth nor Duncan spoke.
Overhead, a veil of smoke shielded them from the arrows of Ereubinian crossbows and the Adorians were able to fly out of Eidolon. Duncan felt his face and neck flush with heat and his heart rate increase.
“Damn you, Kendall,” he whispered, “and damn your heroics!”
Garren sat for what felt like an eternity. Michael had taken Ariana past two enormous doors, shaped like butterfly wings, that might as well have led to the afterlife. He guessed them to be at least thirty feet or more in height. The Adorians who’d met them near the border arrived shortly after. The elder went into the room where Michael was.
Several of the men stood close watch over him. They’d been given instructions in Adorian, and though he could apparently conjure the tongue unwittingly, he couldn’t understand it when he tried. He assumed their instructions were not to leave his side, but they looked afraid. Brave, but afraid nonetheless, and they stood as far away from him as possible. His patience for not being told what was going on with Ariana was wearing thin and he was in the midst of contemplating a run for the doors, when they suddenly opened and Michael emerged.
He was shaken, his eyes swollen and red, his complexion just as drained of life as his sister’s had been. He staggered to where one of the others stood and sank to the floor with his back to the wall. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. “The healer said it’s irreparable … her wounds are too deep, she …” He bowed his face in his hands and breathed in a slow choked breath. “She will not live.”
Jareth stretched out his wings and rose into the air, yelling down to Duncan, “Come on, old man, there’ll be time enough for grief once we’re home!” Then, after he was certain Duncan had shaken himself from his disbelief, Jareth flew ahead.
He could not get the image of Ariana, bloody and unconscious in Michael’s arms, out of his head. She’d looked so pale, so lifeless. And Garren, riding beside Michael as if he had the right to still draw breath after what he’d done?
Flying was hard enough on an Adorian’s body, but doing it with broken bones was excruciating. The muscles that created movement in his wings were attached to those that allowed for movement in his arms, shoulders and torso. It would be a mere mile, perhaps less, before he’d be forced to land.
Jareth hadn’t been asking Duncan if he’d seen Kendall out of curiosity; he’d asked because he needed to know whether Kendall had made it to the western side of the dividing wall or not. If he hadn’t, Jareth would need to find him, take the breastplate and continue as Michael’s decoy. Three small groups of Adorian knights had volunteered to fly into Eidolon before the main party arrived, while the Ereubinians were too unaware to pay attention to the sky above them, and wait within the castle ramparts with enough crudely constructed bombs to take out more than a few Moriors. Explosives weren’t a weapon of choice for either Adorians or Ereubinians simply because the resources to make them were scarce, but when they were used, they were undoubtedly effective.
The last of his energy gave out and Jareth descended. His intention was to walk, but once his feet hit the ground, he crumbled forward and was lucky to crawl to a nearby tree, where he could rest.
He came to with the smell of stale breath in his face.
“Did you know?” Duncan was bent over, his face bright red and puffy.
Jareth’s eyes felt like someone had thrown sand in them and they burned once he was able to pry them open all of the way. “Care to be a little more specific?”
“Kendall! The others! Did you know what they were going to do?” Duncan roared.
Jareth cringed. His head was pounding without any help from Duncan. “Such a Braeden thing to ask. You piss and moan that you’re done with the realm of man, that you’re unwilling to reunite your men, and you’ve still got balls left to whine about not being included? If it makes you feel any better, Michael didn’t even know.”
Duncan laughed, but there wasn’t anything jovial about it.
“Is it because you don’t have wings, Duncan? Is that why Braeden are so arrogant, because you feel like you have to make up for something? You’ve got your ways of doing things and we have ours.”
“Yeah, Jareth, that’s it. I’m pissed because I don’t have wings.
You want to talk about wings? I’m pissed because Gabriel died ... because if Gabriel had kept his wings ...” His voice shook as it trailed off. Then, when he could no longer find the words to continue, he roared indecipherably and hauled Jareth to his feet by his good arm and began to walk toward his horse.
“I think I’ll wait on the others, thank—”
“They’ve already left for Adoria, Jareth. I’ve been waiting on you to wake up from your beauty rest for over two hours. Now shut up and get on behind me.”
Jareth briefly considered flying despite the pain in his body, just to avoid having to deal with Duncan’s attitude, but the look in the Braeden’s eyes told him the decision had been made for him.
“I should have told you,” Jareth muttered as he struggled onto the horse.
Duncan reached back and helped him. “Kendall was the only one of you with any sense and he goes and does something stupid like this.”
Before they rode off, Jareth flexed his wings full span for one good stretch. “He saved hundreds of lives.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t heroic. I said he was stupid.”
The words did not immediately register. Then, as they did, the room felt like it was falling down on Garren and he fought to catch his breath. He heard Michael sobbing, but he couldn’t see him for the tears that filled his own eyes.
“My Lord,” an elderly man, perhaps human, gripped Michael’s arm. “Let Garren go to her. Time is running out, you mustn’t question why.”
One of the other Adorians started to protest, but Michael put his hand out weakly. “Do as Bronach says, let Garren go to her. What’s done is done.” Michael barely got the words out, his voice cracking at the finish.
Garren paused in the doorway and Bronach placed his hand on Garren’s back to urge him forward. “It’s alright. You must go to her.”
Garren stepped into the dimly lit room. He saw Ariana on a bed against the far wall, her face no longer showing any trace of pain or fear. Her cheek was cold when he touched it. He took her hand in his and placed it against his chest. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
Bronach drew back and stood along the wall, unseen now, his heart frozen in his chest. The other immortals had already knelt, their heads hung, words spilling over their lips that couldn’t hold a candle’s worth of light against the darkness that purposed to take Ariana’s soul.
It cannot end like this.
“She’s dying,” Onora looked up at Bronach, horror-stricken. “Can you do nothing?”
She already knew the answer to that — they all did. It was forbidden. He shook his head, remaining quiet. Bronach felt Garren’s grief all the way to his soul and all he could think about was the past, how deep their love had been. He remembered the gatekeeper’s words ... “that same unpredictable power means that their love is far greater than even you or I could ever have imagined.”
All of Bronach’s fears had been for naught if she died now, before she or Garren had even begun the real battle.
What have I done?
Garren couldn’t breathe under the weight of his sorrow. He didn’t just weep for a girl he barely knew, it was as though he’d always known her, as though he’d lived all of his life in shadow only to be brought into the light by that first touch. Something inside him screamed, raged that this couldn’t be the end, that this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
What was supposed to happen, then?
He rose over her, touched her hair, swept his thumb across her jaw. Everything in him willed him to do something, but what? What could he do? Whispers, dark and taunting, swirled in his head from an unknown source, telling him that it was over, that he had lost, to let her go. The whispers turned to laughter and resonated through his whole body, made him feel as though he’d been robbed of his very soul.
Garren braced himself, knowing he was losing his grip on reality. He glanced down and saw her chest rise one final time, filling her lungs with air, before she stilled and he knew she’d breathed her last.
“No,” he whispered, “it is not over.” The fury in him reeled against the voice and rose against it, urged him to act. He leaned down and kissed her, keeping her hand to his chest, clutching against his heart.
It started there, with her hand, as it warmed to the touch. Then, a light swelled around them, so gradually at first that Garren didn’t notice it. It intensified until it burst forth to fill the immense room, spilling into the hall. The force of it threw Garren several feet.
Michael and the others rushed into the room. Garren couldn’t move, his whole body stiff and weak. He rolled to his side to catch a glimpse of Michael leaning over Ariana.
He saw everyone moving around, but couldn’t decipher what was being said. His vision blurred and he felt himself losing consciousness. It was all he could do to lie back, facing the ceiling, before he blacked out. As the darkness took him, he heard another voice, this one strong but soothing.
Rest now, you will need your strength.
The Dark Lord Azrian clenched the chalice in his fist before hurling it against the wall, roaring as it shattered into pieces.
“So be it!” he snarled. “You wish it to come to this?” He lifted his gaze to the east and knew that though he couldn’t see him, the Creator would hear his words. “You wager so much with so little!”
His breath came in short huffs, his face bright red with rage. “An Adorian healer’s blood. Clever, though not clever enough. Do you think this changes anything? Do you think the Sword of Ereubus will call to Garren any less?” He roared indecipherably, debating whom to kill for this, and was about to act on his decision when he caught a glimpse of her face out of the corner of his eye.
His voice became a whisper as he leaned over the pool of water to gaze at her for the brief time he would be able to. “So beautiful, even in this fragile form he has chosen for you. I wonder, does it please him to see you so weak, so powerless. Mortal enough for a blade to drain the life from you. I would never have done this. I would never have allowed such harm to come to you had you stayed by my side.”
He whipped upright at the sound of Usilet entering his chambers. “I didn’t call for you.”
She bowed low to the ground, “No, my Lord. Ciara wishes to speak with you.”
He laughed, genuinely amused. “Tell her my answer is the same. If she wishes something from me, then she may ask it when her part of the covenant has been upheld. Then we will see.”
Usilet nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Before you leave — ” He held out his hand for her to kiss it, “I want you to go to Caedmon. In dreams if you must. There is darkness in him, I can see the hatred in his eyes and it pleases me. Remind him how much Garren has taken from him.”
Dismissing her, he walked back toward the pool, tightening his jaw as he saw the water, now dark and visionless.
“Make him remember, Usilet!” he screamed. “Do whatever is necessary!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NINE DEAD
M
ichael pulled up Ariana with one arm around her waist, the other at her shoulder. The color had returned to her face and her breathing had steadied. He moved her shirt from her shoulder, exposing unharmed flesh. Her wounds were as gone.
“Ariana,” he whispered, his voice wavering with emotion.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, a dazed expression on her face. “Where am I?” Her voice was low, hardly a whisper.
“Adoria. You are home, dear heart.” He half-laughed, half-sobbed with relief as he sat on the bed beside her. “Do you remember anything?”
“No.” She reached up, noticing the injury on his arm. He’d forgotten about it himself. His wings were bleeding in several places, and he had a rather large gash in his leg, but he couldn’t feel any of it now.
She gasped, her memory having returned to her. “I’m so sorry, Michael, I shouldn’t have — ”
He hugged her, stopping her mid-sentence. “Ssh. Don’t be sorry. Had I been more for
thright, you would’ve felt more comfortable confiding in me. I’m simply grateful that you are … Ariana, you were barely breathing.”
Jenner was seated on the opposite side of the bed from Michael. “Child, I bore witness to this. It was he who entered and spoke life back into you.” He stood, stepping aside for Ariana to see Garren.
To Michael’s surprise, she recoiled into his arms at the sight of Garren.
“I haven’t the desire to so much as look at him,” she said bitterly.
Michael waved his hand, indicating for Garren to be taken from the room. He appeared to be out cold; whatever he’d done had drained him completely. Michael turned his attention back to Ariana as Jenner ushered everyone else from their presence. He didn’t speak again until they were alone.
“I’m sorry about Sara. Forgive me, please, for not speaking with you more candidly. Know that she had no choice in the matter, her words were not her own.”
“I know they weren’t,” she said, her expression wistful. “She’s a hollow shell of who she once was. But she is among the living.” Her countenance fell grave as she reached up to her left shoulder, rubbing where the sword had pierced her. It seemed to all be coming back to her. “What has he said to you?”
“It was not a short journey here. We discussed many things, least of which is his maternity. He is part Adorian; I saw this for myself as he entered without hindrance. The only thing that kept me from killing him in Eidolon were the Adorian words that came from his mouth. You were right on several accounts. He wasn’t responsible for your wounds or the visions that you’ve been having. He has been experiencing the same, or so he claims.”
The expression on her face as he spoke of Garren turned sour. While part of him wanted her to feel that way, the other part of him noted it as significant that her perception of him had changed.
“This is a new reaction for you.”
“I heard things come from his mouth that felt untrue, yet seem without reproach. I recall well being wounded by one of his men and him coming to me as I lay bleeding on the ground, saying the only reason he wanted me alive was because I had knowledge of Adoria that the Ereubinians wanted. Did I dream that he stayed with me through the night? I felt his presence each time I regained consciousness, but at the same time I heard him say clearly as I speak to you now that he was responsible for the dead who were left outside of our borders. There was nothing but vile retribution in his tone, Michael. I witnessed evidence with Sara that he’d spoken for her as a breeder. Her lip was bloodied and her cheek bruised.”
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