CHAPTER 31
Stefan stared at the closed door.
“What he says makes no difference.” Cerny regarded him with a sly smile. “You can’t hope to defeat Nerian.”
Thoughts spinning, Stefan barely noted Cerny’s remark. Then, Kahar’s words hit him. ‘They are in the throne room.’ He spun on his heels to face the room’s entrance. “No.” He whispered. “No.” Gut clenching, he sprinted down the hall. When he reached the door, he didn’t bother to push, choosing instead to slam it open with his shoulder.
Flames crackled in the braziers next to the pillars and in the three large hearths along the walls. Unlike the rest of the castle, the throne room was hot. Up on the dais, dressed in ebony armor, Nerian slouched, his throne barely visible behind his massive form. On either side of him sat Anton and Celina. There was no sign of Thania.
Cerny rushed into the room. “Sire—”
King Nerian stopped him with an upraised hand. “So the wayward son returns,” Nerian’s voice echoed throughout the empty chamber. “Children, go greet your father.”
They glanced over to Nerian as if uncertain.
“He is your father, isn’t he? Go on.”
They stood. Stefan’s eyes widened, and if not for the circumstances, he would have smiled at how much they’d grown. Anton was almost Stefan’s height, his shoulders broad, hair coal–black. Celina was also tall, but she had her mother’s silky tresses and dainty shape. Both were dressed in finery. Despite the years, their features were unmistakable.
One foot in front the other, Stefan reminded himself as he willed his feet to move and began to walk toward his children. At first, Anton and Celina took slow, uncertain steps, then their pace quickened, and eventually they ran. Tears in his eyes, Stefan broke into a run to meet them.
“Father,” Anton said, breathless when they met near the room’s middle. “Is that really you?”
“Yes,” Stefan replied. He grabbed them both in his arms and hugged them.
“Of course it is silly,” Celina said. “He’s almost the same as when Mother lets us see him in her divya. The one that resembles him.”
The pendant of Thania hanging around Stefan’s neck was heavy and cold against his skin. “Yes. Yes it is,” he whispered. He hugged them even tighter.
The moment seemed to go on forever, him hugging his children, and they squeezing him in return. They cried the entire time.
Finally, Stefan released them. Wiping at his eyes, he asked, “Where’s your mother?”
“She abandoned them,” Nerian said from across the room.
How did the King hear what was said from so far away? “She would never do that,” Stefan shouted. He searched his children’s faces to confirm he was right. Sadness reflected at him.
“She’s been gone for days,” Anton said.
Celina shook her head, mouth downturned. “The same day Uncle Nerian’s King’s Guard showed up at our home.”
“Uncle Nerian?” Stefan repeated.
Anton shrugged. “It’s what we called him for years. Mother said Uncle used to look after you like you were his son.”
Stefan took in the throne and the stranger sitting upon it. “That was a long time ago. He’s no longer the same man. Did your mother give any idea where she was going?”
“I know, but I doubt they would.” Nerian chuckled.
A squeeze of his arm made Stefan look down. It was Anton’s hand. When he met his son’s eyes, Anton’s expression pinched with concentration.
“He cannot hear us now, Father,” Celina whispered, lips barely moving. “Anton is making sure of that.”
She had positioned herself to block the King’s view. The strain on Anton’s face revealed the boy was Forging. Stefan nodded to show he understood.
“Mother left when the King sent his Alzari for all of us,” Celina said, her voice still low. “By the time she realized what was happening it was too late. We would have fought them off, but there was no way to win. No one knows where Mother went or how she escaped. So we have sat here, playing the innocent niece and nephew to the King while hoping she returns with help. Father …” Her voice cracked a little. “We’re both scared. We saw what the King does to those who fail him. A–And the creatures that stalk these halls, often trying to get in here … We can hear them growling late at night. We can smell them. A–Anton says they’re shadelings.”
“They are,” Stefan said. “The King has turned to the shade.”
Celina sucked in a breath, her gaze darting toward Nerian. A dip of Anton’s head and the unsurprised expression on his face said he suspected as much.
“What are we going to do?” Celina asked, her hand gripping Stefan’s even tighter, fingers cold and clammy against his palm.
“Enough of the whispering,” Nerian called. “Enter.”
The double doors to the chamber’s left side swung open. In pairs along the shadowy hallway, nine figures entered the room. Stefan’s sword vibrated violently against his leg.
The first four were wraithwolves, fur rippling, mouths lolling in toothy grins.
Darkwraiths entered after them. Long black cloaks hid their bodies, and their feet never appeared to touch the ground. Smoky mist danced around them. It coiled up like a living thing to hide their faces in a translucent hood from which red eyes glowed.
Even as seeing the shadelings here, so obviously under Nerian’s command, came as a shock, nothing prepared Stefan for the person trudging between them. His heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest. Dressed in blue, tattered, bloody clothes, her face a mask of welts was Thania.
“No, no … no … no,” Stefan whispered. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes.
The group positioned themselves next to Cerny. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his features. “I told you I would take your place.”
Choked cries escaped from Celina and Anton. Stefan managed to prevent them from running to their mother. He did not know how he kept his ground or stood despite the weakness in his knees, but something deep within told him he must.
His pendant bloomed with warmth. He reached a tentative hand to the charm before he stopped. Why hadn’t he felt the same from the children? Thania’s words rose fresh in his mind. ‘Our pendants, the pieces of us I imbued into them, now also contain a part of the children’s essences. The day you do not feel its warmth, our love when within its presence is the day you will know something is amiss. But even then, there will be hope.’ He should have realized what the pendant’s coldness meant when the children came near, but he was so overwhelmed by his emotions he’d missed its importance.
Stefan made to ease his grip from Celina’s, but a warning look flashed across his wife’s face.
A chuckle began behind him. The sound built into a hearty laugh. By the time he turned to face throne, it was a cackle.
King Nerian’s mad laugh rose to a feverish pitch before he sputtered into silence. The only other noise within the room came from the flames crackling atop the braziers.
“I apologize, but I could not help myself,” Nerian said. “The expression on your face when you saw your wife, the way she tried to warn you … This whole scenario is priceless. The deception almost worked too.”
“What—” Stefan began.
“Oh, come now,” Nerian said. He pointed at Thania. “That … is your wife. Those,” he gestured at Anton and Celina, “are not your children.”
Stefan’s mouth dropped open. Not from surprise that they weren’t his children, but because the King had known all along.
Nerian chuckled. “Why the charade? I wanted to witness how this would unfold.” His gaze shifted to the children. “If you could tell they were not yours or if they would fool you completely. A good try, Thania. However, when you are as strong as I am in Mater, one can sense the tiny disturbanc
e in the essences that accompanies even the most experienced Sven.”
With those words, Nerian gave a lazy wave of his hand in Stefan’s direction. Spear–like flames darted from two of the braziers near the King and shot down the room.
Around Stefan, the ground rumbled and heaved. He lost his balance, stumbling for a moment as he noticed the children step forward. Eyes wide with shock and fear, he could do nothing to help.
The spears of fire tore through the air. The children stepped to the side and off the carpet. Serene smiles crossed their faces, then abruptly their arms elongated and flowed down to touch the marble floor. Stone and earth flowed up over them. The flames struck with a low boom.
Stefan threw a hand up against the sudden heat and the small concussion.
Fire rippled around and down the stoneform figures that were once his children. The flames snuffed out as if sucked away by a deep indrawn breath.
In place of Anton and Celina stood two ten–foot Sven. Marble and rock covered their bodies. Smoke rose from them. The smell of char trickled through the room. Below them, the ground was torn. As one, they roared at the King.
“Calm down.” Nerian cocked his head, an amused expression on his face.
The Sven quieted, but their brown–eyed glares remained on him.
“So,” Nerian stood, “all the pieces are together. We have the Sven, so I should count the Harnan as well, the Tribunal and their Ashishin, the Felani hiding behind the Vallum of Light waiting for said Tribunal.” He chuckled. “Let’s not forget the Erastonians.”
“All the more reason for you to give up this madness,” Stefan said, finally finding his voice. He tried his best to ignore the sword vibrating against his leg. It was a constant reminder the shadelings held his wife.
“Ah, but I hold the advantage.” Nerian’s gauntleted hand gestured toward his right and a small, dark entryway there.
The door opened. Anton and Celina, eyes fearful, clothing disheveled, shuffled into the room. Kahar glided in after them, his dark cloak and clothing motionless.
“NOOO!” Thania screamed.
Stunned, Stefan opened and closed his mouth.
“Mother,” the children cried, trying to head to her. Kahar cut them off.
“Not once did you think the Ashishin assisting your escape would belong to me.” Nerian shrugged as if it was obvious to him. “Bring them to me.”
Every fiber within Stefan’s body urged him to do something. Anything. But what could he do against Nerian, Kahar and the shadelings? Even his wife who was as strong or stronger than any High Ashishin he knew, appeared powerless. Thania had crumpled to the floor, crying.
The children approached the King, their gazes drifting to Stefan. They gasped. Celina began to wail. Anton mouthed the question, “Father?”
Heart thumping as he fought down sorrow, Stefan nodded. There had to be some way to help his children. “W–What do you want, Nerian? Please, stop this.”
“I am almost tempted to say that time has passed,” Nerian said. “Come, children, do not be afraid.” He beckoned them on as they paused a few feet from the dais.
When they climbed the steps and stood next to him, Nerian glanced from one to the other, his lips curled into a wicked smile. He ruffled Anton’s hair, then strode down the stairs, leaving the throne and the children arrayed at his back.
“You were like a son to me, Stefan. All I asked was for your help in fighting the Erastonians, to establish the rule of the Setian. In return, you would rule beside me. What do you do instead? You ally with them.”
Stefan fought down the urge not to gape at Nerian’s revelation. How did he find out?
“You hide your surprise well, Stefan,” Nerian said. “But there is little I do not know. Man’s greatest flaw is greed. The power of promises and delivering on them.”
“Dishonorable use is not what the Disciplines were created for.”
“Oh? So, you wrote them?” A smirk played across the King’s face. “Like anything else, they are a tool. In this case, one that teaches you how to get the best out of your men in whatever endeavor. For example, the Erastonians invaded Seti, already destroyed several towns and cities, massacred hundreds of thousands, and enslaved even more. They managed to defeat the greatest General Seti has ever known. Our armies and our Alzari will fight like never before. Right now, they are slaughtering your precious Erastonians.”
This time, Stefan did gape.
“Thank you for bringing them together in one location for me to crush. You served your purpose better than if you hadn’t betrayed me.” Nerian slowly shook his head from side to side. “And to think, I gave you everything.”
“No.” A sudden rage boiled in Stefan as he thought about all the dead, all the lives and families shattered over countless years of war. All wasted because he was blind to Nerian’s plans all those years. “I earned what I had. Many times over. What you asked was for me to go against what I believed in. All you have taught me. The Disciplines, honor, respect for life, and a man’s need for family. What happened to you, Nerian?” Stefan gestured to the shadelings. “To make it worse you turned to them, the very thing that has tried to destroy the world for years.”
“Nothing happened. I am who I am.”
“Lies!” Stefan shouted. “You were an honorable man. A man many admired—even worshipped—as if you were one of the gods. Now, look at yourself, look at your people, look at the filth and darkness that has become of Benez. You’re nothing more than a madman deluded by dreams and prophecies of the dead.”
Nerian scowled. Then, he shrugged. “Mad, maybe. Deluded? No. There are things beyond your understanding at work here. The world will be covered in the shade’s darkness. Nothing will stop that. No one is prepared. I will be victorious. But, in order to do so, there is something I need. Your sword. Release its bond to me or I will kill your children.”
Stefan stared, not believing the heinous words Nerian uttered. He closed his eyes, a hand sliding to his head to massage where his skull ached. To kill during a war was one thing, but to threaten to murder the children was beyond Stefan’s comprehension. Nerian was worse than a lunatic. He was a rabid animal that needed to be destroyed.
However, such a thing was easier thought than accomplished. The King faced the two Sven, Thania, whatever power Anton and Celina could muster, and yet appeared unconcerned. If Nerian wanted, he could probably kill everyone within the room. Not that Stefan was discounting himself, but for him to have any hope, he needed to get closer to the King.
“I served you faithfully all these years,” Stefan said, his voice a hair above a whisper. “Giving all I had, helping to build a kingdom, protecting the people and your rule. Not once before did I question your need for glory and conquest. I embraced it, took in what you taught me, and made your wishes a part of myself. All I ever asked was a chance to enjoy the fruit of the blood we spilled if the gods should ever bless me to live that long.” He stared longingly at his children. “Now I have that chance, and you not only deprived me of raising my children, but you would take them away from me? Kill them?” The seething inside him bubbled to the surface in a red–hot cauldron. “For a sword?”
“No. Not only a sword,” Nerian said from where he stood at the bottom of the dais. “The power within it.”
“So for a chance at power you would ask me to choose between the weapon and my blood?”
“I was not asking.” Nerian flicked a hand.
Celina made a choking sound. Kicking and thrashing, she rose slowly until she floated several feet above the throne. Her eyes bulged.
“Cel!” Anton yelled, hand outstretched toward his sister. Then he spun on Nerian, his face a mottled mask. Before Anton made another move, he went flying into the throne.
Something tugged at Stefan’s feet. Marble slid up to his ankle then hardened. Any attempt he m
ade to shift was futile.
“Nerian,” Thania yelled.
Stefan snapped his attention back to his wife
Brow bunched together, she stared down the King, hands clenched into fists. Expression strained, Cerny stepped toward her, fist upraised.
One of the wraithwolves next to Thania exploded. Great gouts of blood and flesh splashed not only its counterparts but on her as well, painting the floor and nearby wall crimson.
Cerny’s arm shook. Whatever Forging they were using, they battled mightily against each other.
A second later, Thania’s shoulders sagged and her expression changed to one of shock. She sunk to the floor.
With two mighty roars, the Sven pounded their fists into the floor. Marble and stone boiled up around them. The piled debris shot forward and sent flagstones in a rippling wave toward the King. At the same time, the two Sven leaped.
The wave of earth came to a jarring halt as if slamming into an invisible wall. Before they reached the apex of their jumps, the Sven froze. The air within the throne room grew so cold Stefan’s teeth chattered. Frost, then ice, rippled across the Svens’ giant forms. A moment later, they shattered. A shower of flesh, dirt, and stone fell with their deaths.
Transfixed, Stefan stared in disbelief. To do all he’d accomplished, Nerian would have had to Forge air to lift and bind Celina and create the wall, use light to kill the wraithwolf and Warp the Mater around Thania, reconstitute earth around Stefan’s leg, and use water and ice to destroy the Sven. To be a High Matii, one had to be able to wield two of the three elements. But to Forge essences from all three? Simultaneously? Impossible.
The rattle of Celina as she wheezed and coughed, and Thania’s low keening moan broke him from his thoughts. The smell of fresh blood and the rot of wraithwolf filled the room. As his mind registered the devastation Nerian wrought, Stefan tried to work out a solution. Even if he got close enough, the King would kill him before he could blink.
Aegis of The Gods: Book 00 - The Shadowbearer Page 23