Son of Erebus gol-1

by J. S. Chansellor

  Jenner nodded, thanking Aulora for her aid with the girl's health, and started for the door. Michael, who'd stepped in front of him, whispered in an Adorian tongue his wish to know whether she had come alone. "Ne dost narromai denlot ta allolost."

  They had almost made it completely through the threshold when she said it.

  "Nigh allolost domay." It was barely a whisper and, had they been any farther past the door, it would have been construed as inconsequential mumbling.

  "What did you say?" Jenner asked. Michael was too stunned to say anything and could only watch as Jenner sat down once again at her bedside.

  "I said — I entered alone."

  Jenner smiled. "My wits, child! You are Adorian. I cannot imagine it. How could you have been left behind?"

  "We spoke to each other in this… way. I was little. Before he left. No one but us."

  Michael walked around Jenner and took her face into his hands, resting his palms against her cheeks, elated beyond expression that she was not of dark blood. "Tell me. What name was given your father?"

  "His name is Gabriel."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE CITY OF SHADOWS

  As dusk settled across the horizon, the Moriors flew like dark shadows in the air. The Dragees' heavy frames pounded the earth, kicking up dirt and mire, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Garren was silent for most of the lengthy journey back to Eidolon, stopping as little as possible and speaking only when he was addressed with something that interested him.

  Those who survived the siege were imprisoned at the back of the caravan. Held in iron cages, they sat listless, staring beyond their captors. Everything was as it should be, having captured more souls at less cost than many other conquests Garren had led. Yet, he felt ill at ease. He pictured the girl's face, replayed her words. Her actions were intrepid, if nothing else. But what disturbed him more than anything was his own response. The sword had been in his hand, he had been ready to strike as he had been countless times before, yet nothing in that moment or any other could have forced him to wound her. Now, he kept envisioning her alone in the dark woods. The more he considered this, the more heated he became. Anger became fury as he outpaced the rest of his men, leaving his guards struggling to catch up.

  Was this pity he was feeling? He might have once felt compassion for one of his own, but never for an Adorian.

  It had been called the City of Shadows for centuries, and rightfully so. He couldn't recall a time when it had not been saturated in darkness even in the full light of day. The woods, as if consciously aware of the ever-growing power of the Laionai, shrank away from the city's borders. The scent of dampness and choking humidity only intensified as they grew near, the cold rainwater pooling in the barren fields from a lack of warmth to evaporate it.

  There were two distinct sections to Eidolon. The outer courts housed the human slaves and the markets. Reminiscent of the poorest living conditions in Middengard, it was not a place where any respectable Ereubinian spent any length of time, aside from the wardens who spent most of their lives among the humans, or vessels, as they were often called.

  Beyond the outer courts past the dividing wall was an ornate, richly decorated world full of the finest things any being could be afforded. With the whole of Middengard in service to the elite, no expense was spared in catering to them. There was nothing Garren could not obtain should he want it.

  At the very center of Eidolon was the pristine temple of the Goddess Ciara. Built in brilliant, almost luminescent, white stone, it stood out among even the more elaborate structures surrounding it. It represented the Goddess' righteousness and purity.

  Garren handed over his Dragee as soon as he entered the inner courts, ignoring the salutations of those who milled about. Having grown used to their subservience, he felt their outward displays of humility no longer deserved his attention.

  As soon as he was in his chambers, he summoned Tadraem. He knew his men were all exhausted, but this needed to be dealt with before their feast on morrow's eve.

  "My liege," Tadraem gave him a respectful partial bow, smiling as Garren waved his guards from the room.

  "You have impressed their eminence with your faith and perseverance," Garren said stoically. "Assuming your acceptance, you will be granted the honor of becoming the new High Priest."

  Tadraem tilted his head. "I'm more than grateful, but, may I speak candidly with you?"

  Tadraem was older than Garren, having taken him as his charge soon after Garren's father, Seth, died. Though Tadraem rarely mentioned Seth, the two had been close confidants before his death. It seemed fitting, Garren supposed, that Tadraem would have taken the roles as his mentor and guardian after Seth's death.

  "Of course you may," Garren thought it unusual that Tadraem would behave with such reluctance. He knew better than to ask permission to be forthright with Garren.

  "Are you not pleased with your accomplishment? You seem rather… distracted."

  Garren was irritated that it was apparent. "Indifferent, perhaps. Palingard was much stronger when Ruiari was still a stronghold. It would be a stretch to call this anything more than unfinished business."

  Even he wasn't convinced of his answer. Palingard was the last remaining province of any kingdom in Middengard, and while it held very little for them tangibly speaking, it had been of particular importance to Adoria, therefore it was even more important to Eidolon symbolically.

  Tadraem had led the earlier failed siege on Palingard, and it was more than significant that they had now so easily destroyed it, especially considering Michael's most recent efforts at thwarting their approach. Garren considered this as he revised his statement, realizing that this was a much larger victory to Tadraem than to him.

  "You obtained this for Her Holiness years ago. If it were not for your decision to ride on Palingard then, Ruiari and Cornumas would not have let down their defenses. They made the mistake of thinking us ill-prepared instead of knowing the truth of why Palingard was lost to us in the first place."

  Tadraem seemed pleased with this response. "Then I will leave you, if there is nothing further. There is much thanks to be given to the Goddess, and I am certain we all need more rest than we can find before the morrow's events."

  "Fair night, then. Please tell my ever-vigilant shadows that I'm retiring. I need to tend to this wound and, as usual, I would like to remain undisturbed."

  Tadraem stifled a chuckle as he bowed, then turned and left the room. It was no secret that Garren loathed his guards. Having grown up in near-anonymity, the constant shuffle of armored feet served as an annoyance more than a sense of security.

  Garren began to pull at his breastplate. As soon as he was unclothed, he took a wash rag from the basin by his bed and lifted the bloody covering from his wound. Placing the wet rag across the now-open cut, he sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. His back and shoulders felt tight and uncomfortable, his hips and thighs strained from the ride. He removed the rag, took a clean piece of fabric and wrapped it in place. Then, wanting nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes, he washed up and put on his nightclothes.

  He lay awake. Having taken the souls of many, Garren's body still pulsated with the strength it wrought in him. He ran his hands through his hair, then rubbed them over his face. His eyes had returned to their usual shade of brown, lessening the violet color that was incurred by using his power, but his own eyes weren't what he envisioned.

  Her eyes had been unusually blue, nearly unnatural in shade and depth. They were beautiful, and had it been only esthetics, he might have dismissed his response as a result of his recent lack of physical release. But something else had gripped him as soon as his hand had touched her cheek. It seared him, piercing through years of apathy and indifference to everything save furthering Eidolon's reign. Giving a name to the sensation was as impossible as being in the presence of the Goddess herself. He would find the very edges of it when, just as swiftly as it had seemed tangible, it would dissipate i
nto the inconceivable.

  He sat upright, resting his head in his hands. He remained like that much of the night, murmuring prayers to Ciara. He had never faltered like this. Known for his swiftness in slaying the Adorians, his failure began to haunt him. The Adorians had come between Eidolon and all that was rightfully theirs, so justice was dealt out with a righteous hand — his hand.

  Garren spent the majority of the morning and some of the afternoon catching up on the less physical responsibilities of being High Lord. By the time evening had come he'd signed more declarations, petitions and judgments than he could count. It left his fingers feeling stiff and cramped. Still, no matter how many redundant papers he read or wrote he couldn't force the questions about who the Adorian girl was, or how she'd wound up in Palingard, from his head. Nothing he could imagine made any sense.

  Garren's musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Aiden, one of his most reliable men and his friend. Aiden didn't wait to hear Garren respond before opening the door.

  "What are you waiting on? I haven't eaten in two days!" Aiden said.

  Garren laughed. Aiden was as tall as he, but thin as a rail. He could consume food endlessly and never gain an ounce. Garren knew for a fact that he had indeed eaten in the last two days — and not a scarce amount by any means.

  "I'm sure you're famished." Garren walked past Aiden at the doorway and together they headed toward the main hall. He glanced at his guards, indicating silently that if they valued their lives, they should consider hanging back at least a few feet.

  "They are waiting to honor you. Do you feel ill?" Aiden asked.

  "I'm weary from the journey. Are you not?"

  Aiden punched him in the arm. "Are you getting frail in your old age?" Garren wasn't at all old; he had just recently turned thirty. Aiden was merely two years younger.

  When he didn't reply, Aiden stopped walking. "I have been unkind in jest," he said cautiously. "I wasn't serious." He placed a hand on Garren's upper arm. "You aren't acting yourself tonight. What troubles you?"

  Garren stared wordlessly at him. He actually hadn't heard his friend's first remark. After a moment, he shook his head and looked off to his side. "I don't know," he lied. "I haven't slept well."

  Aiden seemed to accept this explanation though it took him a moment before he replied. "You will feel better in the morning, I'm sure of it. You need to eat. That's really what all this is about." Aiden's tone lightened to playful banter.

  Garren could only muster a tight-lipped nod. "Perhaps you're right," he murmured. I pray you are.

  The dining hall was draped in red fabric that covered the walls and laid in strips down the center of the tables. Garren entered through a large curtain, emerging on a tall platform that rose from the dark stone floor. Those who were gathered kneeled, keeping their eyes trained on the ground as his arrival was announced.

  When he gave his approval, they broke into praise and accolades. Giving a warm smile in return, he stepped forward to address them.

  "I am privileged to be home on this night, and blessed to be of Ereubinian descent. We have attained long-awaited victory, as the Laionai reign now expands over all of Middengard. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to celebrate this triumph with you. The will of the Goddess has been fulfilled. Rejoice!" He thrust both hands into the air and the crowd applauded and cheered. "Let us eat!" he cried.

  As he sat down in his chair, musicians began to play an old tune of which his father had been fond. He remained silent as the food was brought to the tables and the feast began. After prayerfully committing his food to Ciara, he ate and discussed matters concerning Eidolon with the other men. Discussions of this nature always excited him, and as the night wore on, he felt more at ease. The memory of the girl's appearance was replaced by visions of a more powerful realm and the commendation of the Laionai before the coming observance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  REVELATION

  Michael was unable to speak. Jenner's words came after a long pause and with much effort. "And your mother?" he asked. Ariana pulled the covers closer as she answered, her lack of awareness showing on her face. "Caelyn," she whispered. "She was killed."

  Jenner sat back on his heels. "Could it be?" he asked, looking at Aulora.

  Aulora rose slowly and hobbled to them. "Long have you suspected Tathan's daughter to have borne two children."

  Michael glared at Jenner, who gave an apologetic nod. "I have, but the thought had little merit until now. She needs rest, and has suffered much. Let this continue when she has had time to recover."

  They moved into the hallway. Once they had closed the door behind them, Michael turned to Jenner. "Why would you keep this from me? If you suspected this…"

  Jenner gently cut him off. "It was merely a question in the recesses of an old mind, Michael. I am no longer a young knight, capable of giving room to such a fantasy. You know as well as I that there have been more pressing matters for you to contend with. I had no reason to bother you with an unfounded thought."

  Michael felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to loosen slightly. What Jenner said made sense but it aggravated him nonetheless. "We are not finished discussing this. I trust you will say nothing of her identity to the others until I deem it appropriate. I cannot say how she will take it, and I would prefer she hear it from someone who knew Father, who is aware of her existence. If she is from Palingard…" he paused, a certain Braeden coming to mind. He could tell by Jenner's expression that uttering the name was unnecessary. "I will speak with him tomorrow."

  Jenner nodded, "Perhaps it will be some comfort to her considering all that she has lost."

  Nearly half an hour after Jenner had left him, the door to the hallway opened. Aulora gazed down at Michael, who sat dozing upright at the bottom of the stairwell with his back against the adjacent wall.

  "You can come in now, she is asleep," Aulora whispered, leaning down and nudging him.

  He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "You knew I was here all along, didn't you?"

  Aulora grinned. Michael often thought she took amusement in her wisdom. His question was answered as he crept back through the door and saw that she had placed a blanket and pillow on the floor in the corner. The dog was sound asleep, having made his bed in a warm spot close to the hearth.

  Aulora laughed, mumbling something under her breath as she hobbled over to small spiral staircase that led to the room above. He listened as her footsteps grew faint.

  He sat on the blankets and leaned on a wooden chair. He couldn't help but gaze at her as she slept, the firelight dancing on her soft porcelain features. She seemed so small, younger than him by at least ten or twelve years.

  Many thoughts ran through Michael's head. He'd known very little about where he was born, only that, as an Adorian male, he had been taken back to Adoria to be raised. Trained Braeden males were the only Adorians allowed stay among the humans. His mother would have held to the account that she had miscarried the child and his absence would never be questioned. Ariana couldn't have known about him unless their father had told her, but apparently he had kept their existences a secret from both of them.

  He thought about his father's death, almost a decade ago. That would have left Ariana alone at the age of eleven or twelve, at the most. His heart sank at the realization. As devastated as he had been over their father's death, he had been twenty-four, able to handle something so difficult. She had lost both a mother and a father before she was even a teenager. Gabriel had told him long ago of his mother's death but not the details. Michael figured that if he needed to know, his father would have told him. It wasn't something he had questioned until now. His mother's death had been close to fifteen years ago, the same time as the failed attack by the Ereubinians on Palingard. His father had returned to Adoria several months later, devastated, staying a very brief time before leaving again, which made more sense now that Michael knew his father had a child to tend.

  There was a good reason that childre
n who were brought back to Adoria were never told where their parents were. Had Michael known, he would have gone after his father on several occasions. Others would have done the same. Humans were never to witness them in battle or otherwise, so only on a rare occasion had a human seen a traditional Adorian male.

  Gabriel, being Braeden, was gone for long periods of time throughout Michael's life. But he was present often enough to hold an important rank in Adoria and to serve with the council of elders.

  It made no sense to Michael why his father never mentioned Ariana's existence. Why wasn't she brought here after their mother was killed? What bothered him more was the likelihood that there were others of their kind who knew, but had kept silent.

  "You must have had a reason," he whispered.

  Koen stirred beside the fireplace and lifted his head. He sat up, stretched, and ambled over to where Michael was sitting.

  Michael stroked the dog's head and neck. He was a rather large animal, with a blackish-brown coat and white paws, ears that stood straight up, deep black orbs for eyes, and an indescribable presence, as if he carried all the secrets of the world.

  "You knew, didn't you?" Michael whispered, scratching behind Koen's ears. Koen panted happily in response. Michael had a dog once; he had looked similar to Koen except it had a much smaller body and a distinct reddish coat of fur. Michael had found the dog wandering outside of the Iidolis, where he grew up. It was a school of sorts, where the male children of the Braeden were raised. Originally they were trained in the same manner as the Braeden, in offensive warfare. This was before the Elders had ended the Age of Guardians.

  Michael, after growing up and leaving the Iidolis, remained a mentor despite his duties as Archorigen. The education had changed purpose since Gabriel's death, focusing now on more defensive techniques. Their existence now was more for the protection of Adoria, should it be needed, than for foreign warfare.