Son of Ereubus

by J. S. Chancellor

  As he released her arm and left her standing against the wall, he took long strides, dramatically, around the room. “I will tell you this, you should be incredibly grateful to me. I’ve now saved your life on two occasions. Had you not been chosen as my beautiful bride, had you not been specially picked for me, then you would be dead along with the rest of those who were taken from your village.” He rushed upon her and ran his hands up her bare thighs, then higher. He could just imagine the repulsion that screamed inside of her.

  Laughing, he reached around her neck and loosened the ties that held the bare sheath she wore and it slipped to the floor. “I’m really not in the mood for company tonight, but seeing that you are already here and so eager for my advances, I suppose I cannot deny you such things.” He took her again by the arms and threw her to the bed, then leaned down over her.

  “What are you thinking in there?” Sara didn’t respond, which infuriated him. “Answer me!”

  Her eyes welled with tears and he sat up, horrified. He reached a hand back and brought it hard against her face. “You will not display such sentiments in my presence. Do you understand me?” Upon her subsequent lack of an answer, he grabbed her chin in his hand and shook her. “Did you not hear me?”

  “Yes, my Lord,” she whispered.

  He sighed and said under his breath, “To you, I am no mere Lord. I am a God, and this night, you are blessed to worship me.” He started to unbuckle his belt and saw something flash in her eyes. For a brief moment he thought he might have recognized it as anger, when he thought twice, and realized that it couldn’t have been. He must be imagining things.

  When he was finished, he stepped back off of the bed and stretched. He pointed toward the corner where she’d been when he had returned. “Out of my bed. You disgust me.” She rose, the discomfort in her leg obvious. As she started to struggle, he reached over and pulled hard on her shoulder, hurling her away from him. “Stand against the wall.” He walked over toward a basin of water that sat beside a large wardrobe, chilled from the air. The night had grown cold, and Sara’s body reacted violently to the now-frigid temperature.

  Grabbing the basin in his hands, he walked to where she stood against the wall. He forcefully splashed it over her, drenching her face and body. She choked, coughing uncontrollably as her body tried to clear her throat of the water. “You will relent, this ridiculous hold you have on your emotions, and we will continue this every waking hour until you do!”

  He leaned over and pulled his clothes from the floor where he’d thrown them. He pulled his pants back on, then walked over to the light and blew out the flame, blanketing the room in darkness. He slid back into his bed, grinning.

  “Daughter of man, you will be broken. Just like a horse, you will learn who your master is and will come to love me. Do not doubt this. You and I have a long life ahead of us and you have many sons to bear.” He closed his eyes, welcoming sleep. “Many sons.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  THESE HANDS

  G

  arren walked into the dining hall where the elders awaited him. He tried not to focus on the hundreds of Adorians who stood, filling the room, waiting to hear what would be said.

  “Garren. Come forward.” The same elder who had spoken to him earlier motioned for him to draw nearer. Ariana and Michael stepped back.

  “You have been forgiven of your sins. No longer will you hold your head down in shame. You are one of us, not only by blood, but by creed.” One of the other elders brought forth a sword. It was bright silver, the blade engraved with intricate carvings. The elder balanced it in two hands. “Do not fear us, Garren. By this sword, you are committing yourself a son of Adoria, and pledging your life in her service. Do you wish to do so?”

  He nodded.

  “Then kneel down.” Garren obediently knelt before them. The elder with the sword walked closer to him, took the blade in one hand, and lightly tapped each of his shoulders.

  “Arise now a child of our realm. No longer held in darkness, your eyes are now open to the light. Existai domay enthro Adoria.” He reached down to help Garren to his feet.

  The sword was held out to him. He took it, surprised by the weightlessness of it. He’d seen swords like it used in battle before, but had never managed to get his hands on one. The Adorians had been so swift in their movements during a fight, which made sense to him now. It would be nearly effortless with such a blade. The elder turned and spoke to those gathered.

  “Please continue. Welcome our new brother as you would one who was raised in our realm. Tonight is a great victory for our cause, as Michael has said.” He assumed that Michael had spoken before they arrived.

  Servers emerged from a back room, carrying large trays. As they rounded the tables, the noise from various conversations grew.

  The elder stepped closer to him, and gave a partial bow. “We have not been formally introduced. My name is Jenner. I am the leader of the council of elders, and on a lesser note, father-in-law to Michael and father to Jareth.”

  Garren bowed in return, unsure of what to say. The noise around them grew as the room swelled with the movement of a feast underway.

  “Be careful of the blade. That is not a metal that exists in your realm. It will never dull, so don’t let its weight fool you,” Jenner said.

  “I’m honored. Where did this sword come from?”

  “That sword was given to me by my father. Consider it a gift.”

  Garren swallowed hard. He held his hand up in protest. “I can’t take it. I wouldn’t have even laid hands on it had I known.” He started to give the sword back to Jenner, when he felt Michael step up beside him.

  “You made a comment to me not too long ago. You said that our fathers had been allies. Your father would have wished it this way, and since we have no sword of his, this will have to do.”

  Garren looked behind him to see that Ariana sat quietly in the back of the room. He could barely make out her form in the shadows.

  Jenner patted Garren on the shoulder. “Eat, Garren. The guards have informed me that you never touched your food, and it’s been a long journey for you.” He left Garren and Michael.

  Michael gave him knowing look. “You’re thinking about Ariana. Tomorrow morning, we’ll need to discuss the matter of getting both Micah and Sara away from Eidolon, but tonight we need to put such things aside. Any man, Adorian or Ereubinian, no matter his training, will lose perspective if he doesn’t rest.”

  Many Adorians approached them throughout the night. Garren was stunned, despite Ariana’s warning that he wouldn’t receive the reaction that he’d expected. There were very few who had any hesitation in their voices as they spoke with him. Was it possible that they weren’t aware of what he had done? Yet, he’d heard his own crimes read aloud just hours before, so they had to know.

  “You are wondering why they are so kind.”

  Garren nodded.

  “They aren’t human, Garren. They look human, many of them, but they aren’t. Fallen man has darkness in his heart that is not shared by any in this realm. We are a people of simplicity and peace.”

  As the words left Michael’s mouth, Garren saw a face that made his heart freeze in his chest.

  Michael rose and approached the other Adorian, bracing one arm against his in a supportive grip. It was obvious how much it tortured him to be near Garren at all, let alone speak to him.

  Garren rose from his seat, and knelt. “Forgive me,” he whispered. Caedmon placed his hand on Garren’s head. It lingered there for a moment, a sob erupting from the Adorian’s lips. His fingers shook as they pulled themselves together, gripping Garren’s hair in a fist.

  Garren’s head pounded with the pressure on his scalp, but he stayed still — frozen, as Caedmon released his anger.

  Sobs gave way to weeping as he let go, his hand still hovering over Garren for a moment before he reached down, his chest still heaving, and pulled Garren to his feet to face him. He held Garren’s hands by the wrists. “T
hese hands,” he choked, pausing in his words, “these hands have taken flesh and blood from me! All three of those slain on that day left behind wives and children, who are now my wards to watch over. A senseless act of brutality, left for me to explain to their loved ones. All to deliver a message that had such little value in comparison to the lives you took.”

  Garren steered his gaze again to the floor, a lump in his throat. He could say nothing that would even begin to ease the loss that he’d caused.

  Ariana, having heard enough, pried Garren’s wrists free, taking Caedmon’s hands in hers instead.

  “It has not been in vain. Nothing will bring them back to us, but their deaths led to the downfall of Eidolon’s most able fighter. The Adorians who lost their lives fought with the purpose of protecting man and defeating Eidolon, and what more of a victory can any Adorian still living claim? That Garren stands amongst our people as one of its citizens.”

  Caedmon squeezed her hands before releasing them. He cleared his throat, then looked back at Garren. “Know that though there is no longer a debt, the cost of your forgiveness was borne by our people. Its memory will not fade easily.” Caedmon turned and left, walking alone away from the crowd.

  “He’ll heal.” Ariana looked up at him, a sweet smile positioning itself on her lips. She motioned for him to sit back down.

  Many others came to them throughout the remainder of the evening, some of whom were Michael’s and Jareth’s fellow fighters. Garren had never felt so insecure or humble in his whole life. His head ached, and all he really wanted was to lie down and close his eyes.

  He leaned over and whispered in Ariana’s ear, “Do you think it would offend your brother if I retired for the night?”

  Ariana shook her head. “He looks exhausted still as well. Perhaps tonight was not the best time to do this. Go then, get some sleep. You’ll be more comfortable in your chambers tonight than the last arrangements that were made for you.”

  Garren smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Cold stone does my back well.”

  “I’ll walk you to your chambers.” Garren turned to see that it was Jareth, who hadn’t yet said a single word to him. Garren wasn’t sure how to feel about the offer.

  Michael leaned into the wall nearby with his palm holding his weight, listening with a doubtful look on his face.

  Jareth smirked. “If I were going to do him harm, I wouldn’t announce to the public that I would be the last one seen with him.” He looked over at Ariana and laughed under his breath. “Why is everyone always assuming my intentions are malevolent? I seem to recall already having this conversation once, though in a much less crowded place.”

  Ariana shook her head and laughed as well. It was obviously an inside joke. It slipped under his skin, and idled there, irritating him just enough to outweigh his humility. He lowered his gaze to keep from scowling. Michael must have sensed it, because when Garren lifted his gaze he witnessed a look crossing between Michael and Jareth that made Jareth suddenly change his demeanor.

  “I simply want a word with you. I don’t think that too much to ask.” His voice was much less abrasive and arrogant.

  Garren nodded, and looked back over to wish Ariana good night, but she was already gone. He caught a brief glimpse of her hair as she walked out of his sight.

  “I have no quarrel with it.” He looked directly at Michael to convey his approval. Whatever it was that Jareth wished to say to him, it could not be unwarranted. He started out of the room, Jareth behind him.

  They walked for a minute in silence. Garren heard the click of their boots echoing off of the walls, and down the corridor. He hadn’t paid much attention to the stone of the walls before, but they were indeed resplendent, if anything definable. They were so pale in color they almost looked translucent. Slowly he realized he had seen it before — the temple.

  His eyes truly hadn’t adjusted to everything in their world. He had been so accustomed to the dark, desolate nature of Eidolon that he could not take in everything in Adoria at once. Jareth waited to speak until they stood outside of Garren’s chambers.

  “It doesn’t interest me in the least that you have come across some sort of revelation, in which everything that you have been taught or trained has simply vanished from your consciousness. Don’t be fooled for a minute by my kindness to you. I’m bearing your presence out of respect for my friend and my father — nothing more. It’s no secret that I care about Ariana, and even if my feelings were unrequited, she’s still Michael’s blood, which makes her of even greater importance to me. If the thought even crosses your mind to do her harm, your fate would be better if you took your dagger, and plunged it into your own heart, for I will not be so kind. I’m not fully Adorian either, so what has been done to Middengard has been done to my people as well. I’ve heard mention of returning to Eidolon. Hear me, Garren. If you intend on leading him back into something to his detriment …”

  Garren finally had to interrupt. “He has no need to accompany me. I understand every word that you speak, and would speak the same were I in your position, but you must understand that had I meant her harm, I would’ve done so long ago. I had her at sword’s end and released her. Why would I have let her live?”

  “Passage into this realm! How can you have been a leader and yet be so foolish? Why would I not believe that the Laionai or Ciara herself has conducted everything that’s transpired? A human army is commissioned and miraculously you have a change of heart? You’re either an imbecile, or you’re under the impression that I am.”

  As much as Garren felt apologetic, it still took everything in him not to allow his temper to rise up at Jareth’s tone. He exhaled slowly before responding. “I’ve never known truth, but now it’s as if I have known it all of my life. I can assure you I will not harm anyone in this realm.”

  “I didn’t come for assurance. I’ve come with a warning. Any step you make in the wrong direction will be your last and don’t think I’m the only one watching you.”

  Garren sighed. “I wouldn’t trust me either, Jareth. But what would you do if you were in my shoes? How could you possibly make amends for what I’ve done, gain honest respect and trust?”

  “With an act I doubt I’ll live to see. You can show me your repentance in a form more valuable than useless words. Only then will I grant you my trust.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  IRIAL

  “Y

  ou are without allies. Had you but taken the right path, you would be at our side. You could have aided in her capture and saved the lives of nine of our men. Did you believe that you would be immune to the judgment of the Laionai?” Tadraem leaned into Micah, his sweat dripping down into the boy’s eyes. Aiden stood along the far wall, watching. “Answer me!” he yelled, grabbing Micah by the collar and lifting him.

  Micah’s lower lip quivered and tears started to well up in his eyes.

  Tadraem threw the boy to the floor. “I don’t suppose you have the words to say.” Looking down at him, Tadraem began to circle Micah, his boots making a shrill scraping sound as he bore his weight down onto his heels.

  “High Lord, why don’t you inform our young traitor what the penalty is for such a deed as that which he has committed?”

  Aiden stepped forward, a smug grin on his face. He’d hoped Tadraem would include him in this. He walked over to where the boy lay. He leaned down close enough to hear the fear in the boy’s breath and see the delicate lashes of his eyes.

  “You will be given over to the justice of the Moriors. Your blood shall be spilled upon the steps of Eidolon. Such a pity, to die before you’ve taken your first soul.”

  Micah looked up at him, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. “Please.” The boy’s cheeks were void of color, having been without food for over two days.

  Aiden crouched down beside him. “I’m sorry. What was that?” He bent his head down closer to Micah, already knowing full well what he’d said.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Aiden spran
g to his feet, and kicked Micah hard in the side. Even through the leather of his boot, he felt a rib give way to the force. The boy rolled over, grabbing his side, coughing.

  “How amusing! You think your life worth that of nine fully trained men. Ten really, though Garren had his end marked out for him already!” Spittle hung from Aiden’s lip, a fury growing in his voice. “Surely you didn’t imagine that he’d be allowed to live?” He started laughing, the idea having just crossed his mind. “You did, didn’t you?”

  Micah sat with his chest heaving, clutching his small hands to his side, moaning. Aiden stood up, walking back to lean against the wall.

  Tadraem walked over to where he stood, and handed him a scroll wrapped and bound with a red tie. “Micah’s execution has been set for Friday’s eve. See to it that everything is set in place. You’ll address those who will be present. Any — ” Tadraem was interrupted by the sound of the door being thrown open.

  A short man with a receding hairline and beady eyes stumbled into the room. Bits of food and drink were splattered across his shirt, which hung loosely about his wide midsection. He was out of breath and struggled to get his words out. Aiden felt his own impatience and was about to say something when Tadraem stepped forward.

  “Spit it out!” he yelled. Taking the little man by his shoulders, Tadraem placed him squarely against the wall adjacent to the door.

  “Something’s happened with the humans. Something is very wrong.”

  Aiden furrowed his brow, and tilted his head. “What’s happened to the humans?” The man swallowed, sucking in air through his stout, uneven nose. “There was singing heard.”

  Aiden looked at Tadraem and laughed, relieved. “You’re an idiot. They do as they are told. I have commanded many times that my wife sing to me, and she does without question. Do you know anything a — ”

  The man interrupted him, and it took everything in Aiden’s power to keep from reaching out and snatching him up by his neck.