Son of Erebus gol-1

by J. S. Chansellor

  Michael started to put his arm out to stop her as she breezed past him, but didn't follow through.

  "I'll send Cryx, I assume he can find his way home," she shouted.

  "He'll be fine." Jareth heard her footsteps grow faint as she made her way closer to the castle.

  "That went well," Michael said, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

  Jareth started toward him. "She reminds me in some ways of Genny."

  Michael laughed. "You must be thinking of someone else. Genevieve never questioned a single word I said. She was the most cordial creature alive. Ariana manages nothing but resistance. Father must've had a time with her."

  "She reminds me of Genny in her apparent ability to test you. She may not have verbally challenged you, but she certainly did me. She constantly bit at my ankles. This is what having a sister entails. You aren't always the hero — in fact you're more often than not the villain. I saw that look in your eyes when you realized she was here with me. My intentions couldn't be nobler, yet still you questioned them."

  Michael grinned, tilting his head to the side. "I questioned who, knowing whose sister she is, would lure her into the caverns in the dark of night? You're fortunate that I don't doubt the integrity of your intentions, whatever they may be."

  Jareth heard the words escape his lips too hurriedly to stop them. "True. Knowing whose sister she is, I could've had such foul intent as to use her for target practice. What was it someone wise once said to me? Ah, aim so that you may never be unsure of your intended target." Tears came to his eyes, he was laughing so hard and it became apparent that he couldn't have contained himself, no matter how ill a response he received from his friend.

  Michael glowered at him.

  "I'm sorry. I even promised her I wouldn't." He said it between breaths, his chest still heaving.

  "Funny." Michael said.

  "Yes, yes it is." Jareth was just beyond Michael in the caverns when Michael reached back and took him by the arm.

  "Tell me my eyes were playing tricks on me."

  Jareth backed up till he could see Michael face to face. "You realized what she was holding? You were asking about the reasoning behind your father's secrecy? I think we've found — "

  Michael, who'd been holding his breath, exhaled. "What we've found, I suspect, is barely the beginning of it."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A VIRGIN MANNER OF DECEPTION

  It was a special observance. Four humans stood at the front of the sanctuary. Garren, flanked by Aiden and several others, stood behind the pulpit. They were clothed in black, save the thick red cloaks that hung at their shoulders. Tadraem led the evening prayer and then summoned the Ereubinians who were to participate in the ceremony. Garren walked out with Aiden, the other two Ereubinians following on the opposite side. They faced Tadraem from behind the Breeders.

  A young Ereubinian boy, carrying an armful of white robes, walked up to Garren and handed him one. He did the same with the remaining three. Tadraem walked around to Aiden, after instructing the humans to turn around, and began to dedicate a human to him.

  This had always been a curious ceremony to Garren. It was a high honor. He could feel the excitement swell in his chest. He watched as Tadraem took a small blade, the same one that was traditionally used in sacrifices, and held it to the girl's throat. He let it hover there for a moment, then gently sliced the skin, just enough for a drop of blood to form on the surface of her flesh. This was to signify that she had been saved for the noble purpose of continuing the lineage.

  Garren was happy with his choice of a vessel for Aiden. While he didn't owe Aiden an apology, he didn't carry any malice toward him, either. He'd aided Garren in his victory and deserved rewards. The vessel he'd chose was one of the more attractive girls he'd seen recently. She was tall, with long blonde hair and tan skin. He'd been told that her name was Sara.

  As Tadraem repeated the tradition with each couple, he robed the human in white, signifying the Ereubinian's ownership of the breeder. He finally came to Garren and Cadence. He did something that surprised Garren. Instead of dedicating her himself, as he'd done with all the others, he held the blade out for Garren to take.

  "My Lord, I believe it is fitting for you to make this dedication, as it is your will that now determines her life and death." Tadraem pushed the blade closer toward him. Garren slowly reached out, taking it in his hands. It seemed an unusual thing for Tadraem to have done, but having never been through the ceremony himself he couldn't readily correlate the High Priest's actions with malevolence. He turned his attention back toward Cadence. Her eyes were deep, colorless wells. They reminded him a bit of the Laionai, and it made him wonder if the Laionai had souls. Or if they, too, were simply slaves to another's will. As the thoughts passed through his mind, Garren shuddered. Sacrilege. How could he even conceive such things in a house of worship?

  He took the knife and placed it across the smooth skin of her neck. He could see a reflection of the candles burning. He began to recite the prayer of dedication.

  "Mani suche dost nousmaede…" As the words sounded in the air, he kept his focus on the tip of the knife, fearful of bearing down too deep and ending her. He watched the flickering of the tiny orange and red flames dancing in the distance.

  "Lio treksthis mordoutai…" his hand began to shake. He couldn't take his eyes away, nor could he finish his sentence. A clear image of the Adorian girl shone where Cadence's reflection should have been. There was no missing the fire in her hair or the ice in her blue eyes. He breathed slowly and steadily, reigning in his alarm. This was not the place to be haunted by such apparitions.

  He continued speaking aloud the prayer, careful to make it appear as though he'd merely been reverent in his sudden silence. He finished pulling the knife across her neck, and held it down at his side. Tadraem took the cloak from his hands and placed it around Cadence's shoulders, pulling the hood over her head, as he'd done with the others. Garren barely listened as Tadraem ended the ceremony. The congregation then knelt, reciting prayers of thanksgiving to Ciara.

  Garren stayed still as the others exited the sanctuary. The ceremony had taken a little over an hour, but it felt like mere minutes to him. After everyone had left the sanctuary, Tadraem came to Garren, who was still standing silently in front of Cadence. "My Lord, are you ill? Shall I call for someone?"

  Garren shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. He hoped his words would not reveal how out of breath he was.

  "I'm simply overwhelmed with anticipation — honored to receive such a blessing." Tadraem didn't show any doubt in his expression, but instead smiled and gestured for Garren to leave with his new bride. Garren started to move, but felt his knees go weak beneath him. He leaned over to the railing behind him. "I think we will stay here for a time, to thank the Goddess for her generosity."

  Tadraem seemed pleased with this answer and turned to leave them alone.

  Garren knelt at the altar. His hands shook as he clasped them tightly together. He motioned for Cadence to kneel with him. He closed his eyes and began to pray. His whole body ached, sore from the tensions of the past few days, every muscle stretched taut along his bones. His head pounded and his skin felt cool and clammy. He was both angry and terrified. Nothing had ever felt beyond his control, and this was something that not only could he not command, he couldn't even begin to understand it. This was a night he was supposed to relish, and yet he was on his knees, begging for mercy. He became unaware of the words that were flowing past his lips, his prayers becoming fluid as they formed in his head. It was almost as if he'd fallen asleep, because he came to with a firm hand on his shoulder.

  "What form of desecration is this?" The hand jerked him backwards, and Garren hit the floor on his side. He looked up to see Tadraem, who'd leaned down to face him. "What blasphemy do you speak?"

  Garren jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. "Have you caught Aiden's sickness or have you just gone mad?"

  Tadraem looked back at him, s
hocked. "Garren, you cannot feign that you are unaware of what just came from your own mouth." Garren looked at him doubtfully, not responding. "You were speaking in Adorian!"

  "No Ereubinian has the ability to form the words! Do you think to make up lies about me as you did my father?"

  Tadraem reached out to push the blade away from where Garren had it pointed at his chest. "Garren, my Lord, I have no reason to be dishonest with you. I speak the truth — Adorian speech just passed your lips."

  "This is certainly a virgin manner of deception. First Aiden, and now you? Don't mistake my allegiances."

  Tadraem started to respond, his hand rising in the air in a show of dispute, when he withdrew it suddenly, cradling it against his chest. He howled in pain, shrinking back from Garren to collapse into a pew a short distance from the altar.

  Garren walked up to him and peered down, watching Tadraem as he shook with pain. He thought then of his father and the demise that Tadraem had arranged for him.

  "Please, my Lord." Tadraem begged.

  "Surely, you don't expect me to have pity for you? I believe your words were that you would do the same. So, I suppose you do speak the truth. Don't cross me or you will regret it."

  Tadraem's cries subsided and he sat quietly as he rubbed his hand. Though there was no hint of discomfort any longer, the memory of it would without question last. Garren took one good look at his former mentor before turning to leave the sanctuary, studying the eyes that he'd once held as wise and prudent, the hands that had instructed him. He gazed at the man he'd once revered like a father and found him a stranger.

  Garren entered his chambers with Cadence behind him. Humans were never allowed to live alongside Ereubinians; this would be the only night that she'd be permitted to be in his room. She would be remanded to the other side of the wall for everything except observance.

  He walked over to the window and opened the glass pane. Cold air spilled into the room. He breathed in deeply, his chest having tightened again as he made his way from the sanctuary. He paused there a second before turning around and finding Cadence unclothed, standing wordless in the center of the room. He didn't say anything to her as he tried to unravel his emotions.

  "I am yours, my Lord. What is it that you wish from me?" Her face was turned toward his, her eyes trained on him, but she was not looking at him. She was looking through him. She was soft on the eyes, flawless in every physical way, yet seeing her so vulnerable made him feel disquieted.

  "I wish for you to clothe yourself."

  She had a slight hint of displeasure on her face, though it was subtle at best, merely an echo of what she would've once been able to express, perhaps. "Have I done something wrong, I do not…"

  He interrupted her. "You've done nothing wrong. Do as I ask." She nodded and redressed. He walked over to the bed and pulled down the sheets. Humans, on their wedding night, slept in the small, unadorned keeping room that accompanied each main chamber. He started to undress himself, tired from the day, when he stopped. He glanced back at his bed, then again at Cadence. The smaller room would be much colder. A picture passed through his mind of how chilled the air had been the first night after the siege, how cold the Adorian girl must have been. He slammed his fist on the wall behind the headboard, having grown tired of seeing such reminders. Cadence jumped as his fist smacked against the bare stone of the wall.

  "I'm sorry." Garren walked toward her. He almost expected her to shy away from him, but she made no motion. Perhaps it had been instinct. "You will sleep here tonight, I will stay in the outer room." She gave no response. He watched her move to the bed and lie down, pulling the covers around her neck.

  Garren pushed open the door to the other room. There was indeed a cold draft, as he'd suspected. He shivered a bit and pulled his cloak tighter. There was a simple bed, with a wool blanket and a washstand that supported a large empty basin for water. He approached the bed and picked up the blanket. He hadn't been in this room in a long time; dust had settled heavily. He should've known to ready this room as soon as he'd been told that he would wed. He shook the blanket out and wrapped it around himself as he lay on the mattress.

  He lay awake for some time. Just days ago, he would have disregarded any hint of sympathy for a human, yet here he was, undoubtedly distressed over being unable to be fully a part of this night. He'd waited so long for this — what was the cause of this unrelenting doubt? It infuriated him that Tadraem would make such wild accusations and yet a sliver of fear crept into his consciousness that Tadraem had been telling the truth. He could think of no reason for Tadraem to lie to him. Garren didn't completely trust him, but it wouldn't benefit Tadraem for Garren to fall from power. Either Jules or Aiden would be in line now that Tadraem had accepted the lifelong calling of High Priest. Neither of his two probable successors regarded Tadraem with much loyalty, though he'd begun to question Aiden's loyalties all together.

  It was bewitchment — there was simply no other explanation. The girl was using whatever power had persuaded him to release her to also ensnare his emotions. There was no logical justification for him to care anything about whether an Adorian or a human lived or died. There was no moral reason; Ereubinians were the only ones of true blood. He wished his father were alive. It would be great comfort to be able to speak with him and clear up any misgivings surrounding the last battle.

  He had a fleeting thought of trusting Aiden with what he'd discovered about his father, before it crossed his mind that Aiden wouldn't be able to reply. He thought of all the times he and Aiden had exchanged jokes.

  Garren finally felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was apprehensive of sleep, the dream from days before still haunting him. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Adorian girl and to have things as they once were. Yet, each time he saw her, he was overwhelmed with the same sentiment that held him captive in the woods. He couldn't harm her, he could barely maintain the ability to speak in her presence, let alone relieve himself of her encumbrance from afar.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE FATE OF ALL OTHERS

  "You going to be alright to ride?" asked Duncan as he leaned over in his saddle.

  "I'm fine. I wish everyone would stop treating me as if I were made of glass," Ariana said.

  Duncan laughed. She truly hadn't changed a bit since the last time he'd seen her. Maybe she looked a little older, like Caelyn, but that spirit — that brilliant, wild spirit of hers that was so much like her father's — hadn't changed one bit.

  "You'll find that Adorian males in general are that way. Try not to take offense, it's their nature to be a pain in the ass."

  Ariana grinned. "If you say so."

  They trotted through the snow, through the gates of the main township. The wind was cold, but it felt good on his skin. He'd been up late the night before, irritated by his argument with Michael. He understood Michael's reasoning, but Duncan had spent far more time with humans than Michael had. After Michael left him in the hall, he'd returned to the room to discuss the matter with the rest of the group. He sometimes envied the allegiance of Michael's men, wondering if his own men would have been so bold.

  "You don't consider yourself an Adorian man?"

  Duncan turned his head to look at her. "Why do you say that?"

  She smiled. "Because you said their nature, not our nature."

  "I do and I don't. It depends on the day. I've spent so little time in my own realm that at times it feels foreign to me. Beautiful, but strange still. I understand how lost you must feel. I'm sorry about Palingard. You must be tired of hearing that, but I grieve with you."

  Sadness crossed Ariana's face, and he wondered whether he should've brought it up at all. "Maybe we should find another subject to — "

  "No, you're really the only person that I care to talk with about it. You knew Palingard. There are things that I can speak of all day long to others, yet they can't relate to any of it, especially the things that are so apart from this place. It's ironic, I was always seen as th
e grave serious one back home, and now I find myself almost too light-hearted to belong here. Everything has a coolness in this realm."

  Duncan remarked, "Adoria has been held to such regimented ideals for so long that she's lost some of her former spirit. It saddens me, but just look at the evidence of what was. Did you notice all of the paintings and the woven rugs and the sculptures? That was all left for us by our ancestors. You've perhaps heard them referred to as the Ancients. They are the Adorians who existed before the fall of man. They decided our role as guardians. If you'd like, I'd planned on riding out to some of the less populated areas today. The place I'm thinking of isn't far from here."

  "I'd love to."

  They rode in silence for a while, passing forests thick with snow and the frozen lake.

  As soon as they'd slowed down, Ariana turned to him with an inquisitive look on her face. "You mentioned the ancients — did they write the scrolls that I've heard Bronach speak of?"

  Duncan nodded "Some are letters written to the former monarchs, and others are more expository in nature. That was a big word — are you proud of me?"

  Ariana laughed, as he knew she would. He'd studied human history and warfare in school. Very little time had been spent on grammar lessons, though he still felt as though he could hold his own with any Adorian. "Why do you think Father never told me of Adoria or its history?"

  Her question shouldn't have surprised him. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought of it many times himself; he had just never considered how she might feel about it. He didn't know what to say, there was no clear answer. He shook his head.

  "I'm genuinely unsure. I know his intentions were always for your good, so you needn't worry about that. You're all he talked about when we were away. Not that Michael is the jealous type, but I think it might hurt his feelings if he really knew how much your father adored you."