Brother, Betrayed

by Danielle Raver

  “Yes, King Syah,” several warriors replied and lifted him.

  Syah felt a weight on him as he sighed and turned away, walking back to the throne. The soldiers gathered before him, intent on him as he seated himself and looked back to them.

  “Raiding Arnith would be a fatal mistake,” Syah spoke after a moment. “The king of Anteria used to see it as a nuisance. Now he would see it as an act of aggression, and undoubtedly retaliate.” The king breathed deeply and found Estone’s gaze. “We will find another way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  VISIONS

  His mind was fog, his vision was mist, his thoughts clouds. But somehow it was there, dark, growing. The sinister stones of it were so black they shined white in the light of the sun. The Gorusk citizens had built it so quickly, their spare hatred now turned to use, their muscular arms and tempered stamina now applied to creation, rather than the previous goal they harbored, the only drive they had ever known: to destroy. The knights, too, had buried their oppressed desires and angers under its stones, had cemented their grief into its walls. The fortress before him seemed to echo all of the sacrifices and pain those that followed the young king had endured.

  Still, it was beautiful. Sturdy, tall towers emulated the mountains surrounding them. Large casements darted its sides, celebrating the desolate view around the castle rather than shaming it. And dappled, immense castle doors rested openly, awaiting him. His heart hardened. It was a prison more than a palace. Its purpose was not to exult his position, but to protect and prolong his suffering.

  The young king nodded and began his incarceration. What right did he have to ask for different? He deserved this castle, the dark, cold stones. What right did he have to warmth? To light? To color? To spring?

  The knights and warriors of Gorusk seemed to understand as he passed them for they were serious, not joyful and celebratory as servants in Anteria would have been after the construction of a new castle for their king. They watched Syah give no gesture or acknowledgement, other than to step into the immense fortress and disappear into its shadows.

  She came into the room, seeing only the servants seated near the king acknowledging her. But she looked to her king and saw he did not ignore her entrance out of rudeness, but because he was engrossed in scrolls and papers sprawled across the table. She also saw a plate of food, untouched beside him. But that was a common sight, for his guard and the servants were constantly offering him food to nourish him, but he became thinner with every cycle of the moon.

  “Do any more of the ancient scrolls mention these creatures that dwell in the caves?” the king asked his servants, but the maiden answered first.

  “We do not tempt such creatures, my lord.”

  The young king turned to her and she noticed his skin, pale and dull like the paper he clutched, but his eyes, still, held some spark. “And why is that, Thea?” he asked her, somewhat playful for they had performed this conversation before.

  “They are dangerous, but if they remain a mystery then their danger, too, will remain hidden.”

  “I see,” he responded, returning to his papers. “They may be myth, but if there is another history of them to corroborate this description, then perhaps there is some form of truth in creatures of shadow.”

  She stepped up beside him, looking at the ancient marks of Gorusk upon the assortment of papers, and some characters to which she couldn’t place meaning. “King Syah,” she said, still examining his search, “I am pleased that you have found interest in the old traditions and stories of our lands.” He looked up to her again, and again his expression was familiar, expectant. “But there are other things that Gorusk has to offer you.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and his expression softened. “Let me take you somewhere… and let your eyes gaze on something they have never beheld.” Her voice changed, tempting him, but he sighed and declined.

  “My days for adventure have passed,” he stated and returned to his work.

  She stood there a moment, resigning, but then her face resumed with determination and she sat beside him. “I could take you to the great waters.” She watched him set down his papers. “At the edge of our kingdom, the waters stretch so vast that one cannot see their end. Waves dance and crash against black stone as sharp as knives, and great beaches of dark pebbles are littered with remains of strange animals, washed up on shore when their life in the water is no more.”

  He met her gaze, perceptive, indignant, but caring.

  “It is one thing to read about it in some text,” she pressed, “but quite different to witness it yourself.”

  The young king nodded. “Very well. I will go with you to see the great waters.”

  She smiled, triumphant and pleased, and left him to prepare for their journey.

  She sang and they rode. Her songs, the only weapon that never missed their target. They always managed to soften the troubled lines on his face. These defects to his countenance never vanished, but when she sang of the past of Gorusk and its mysteries and fantasies, they came close.

  Now she reached deeply, distracting him from the grief romancing his expression. She didn’t know which caused it, the strain of the ride or the memory of some previous time, but she sought to rectify whatever distress was gripping him.

  The sea. A tale of the mystery of the sea. Some of the lyrics she herself didn’t understand, but their application had the desired effect. Her king looked away from the dark broodings of his mind, looked to her. Curiosity was on his face, and a kind of grim appreciation. She just continued to sing, her song soon harmonizing with the distant hint of moving water.

  She stopped as they gained command of the great waters, dark and murky water crashing against the gray beach below them, and extending onward in the eternity of horizon. The daughter of a leader of warriors moved her steed beside her silent king, studying the relentless waves crashing upon sand and stone, and gazing out upon the vast expanse of gray and brown, unsteady water.

  “It is beautiful,” she said and caught her king’s attention, for the words were said in the traditional language of Gorusk, which she rarely used with him. She watched him nod and look into her eyes a moment. His face showed a passing comfort and interest, and then his gaze returned to the sea.

  “Come, there’s a path down the bluff,” she said and turned her horse, waiting for him to follow her down a partially worn path through the rocks to the beach. As they descended, the wind increased, blasting the cold, stinging wet air against their faces and into their lungs. By the time they reached the beach and dismounted, their skin was numb and their eyes stung with salt. But neither of them faltered, leaving the guards with the horses and approaching the restlessness of the water.

  “The stones are slick,” she cautioned and he walked beside her carefully.

  “Strange,” he said and paused, and she turned to see him gazing at a captured pool of water amidst the rocks.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I saw some animal moving in the water,” the king explained and reached his hand into the shallow, still pool.

  “Careful sire,” she said sternly and grabbed his arm. “The creatures of the sea are dangerous. Even deceased ones washed ashore can hold menace.”

  The king withdrew his hand and flicked the water off, but his eyes narrowed speculatively. “It was small, and moved quickly when frightened by my shadow.”

  “It may have been a small fish, your majesty,” she told him, thankful when he stood from the pool. “They have been seen here before.”

  “Too small to catch,” he told himself and looked to the immense waters they were approaching. He could only stand it a moment, the openness and freedom they presented, before his worth came into question and he was forced to lower his gaze. He wondered at the ceaseless waves, barraging the land with jealous zeal.

  “Look here, sire, one of the sea creatures,” she beckoned from the finer pebbles near the waves. As he neared, she pointed out a strange, clear glob sprawled motio
nless against the smooth black stones.

  “What is it?” Syah asked as he knelt by it.

  “Don’t touch it sire!” she almost yelled when she saw his hand reach forward. “It is not as passive as it appears.” The king looked up to her a moment, his face unreadable but his eyes patronizing, and then drew his knife.

  “It’s not moving,” he stated as he inspected it closely, prying it with the tip of his blade. “Have you seen creatures like this before?”

  “Yes sire, but none were alive.”

  “You mentioned other beasts that have washed ashore.” His eyes wanted truth as he felt she may try to protect him from his own curiosity.

  “There have been many,” she answered, honestly. “There are tales of a great fish, the size of fifty men, being left on the shore by the waves, with great gashes eaten out of it. And others, smaller, strange creatures with many legs or fins like fish, and sharp, razor like teeth.”

  “And why can we not use them as another source of food?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sure some of them must be edible.”

  “But sire…”

  “We eat fish from the river, why not the sea?”

  “They are all dead, it would be unsafe, unwise…”

  “They are not dead in the water.”

  Her eyes grew wide with fear and surprise. “Your majesty, it is forbidden to enter the great waters. They are protected by terrible beasts. Even Gorusk’s bravest warriors wouldn’t dare venture upon their waves.”

  The king shook his head. “They fear them because they don’t understand them. We can study the cycles of the water, determine the weaknesses and devices of its inhabitants.”

  “But sire, it’s too dangerous,” she insisted.

  “This will be the way for Gorusk to become self-sufficient,” the king continued, seeming to not hear her. She started a moment, nervously watching him approach the border of the sea without restraint. Thea stepped forward, thinking she would have to step in his path to prevent him from entering the forbidden waters, but he stopped, close to where the waves paused and turned back to the sea.

  The king gazed out at the mystery and depth, unfathomable possibility beneath and beyond the waves. What lands stretch beyond the limits of sight? Is there some distance place, so far from his common experience that he could leave behind his past? Focus. He blinked the visions from his eyes and returned to his gaze to the restless waters.

  “We could design a craft capable of withstanding the waves. Arm the fishermen with spears and nets.”

  “And what if you capture the beast that fed upon the great fish?”

  “Cut the line.”

  She lowered her head, seeing further argument was useless.

  He pointed out to the water. “There, that rock jutting out of the water, that will be our first goal.”

  She followed his gaze to a large black rock battered by a relentless barrage of waves. But then she noticed he had left her side and she quickly turned to find him returning inland. “Sire!” she cautioned, seeing him lean down to the translucent, slimy creature splayed motionless upon the dark pebbles. But he took out a pouch, and carefully persuaded the dead animal into it with his knife.

  “Assign workers to collect specimens. We will study them at the castle, and begin our plans for venturing out onto the waters.”

  “Yes, my king,” she answered, shaking her head slightly and followed him to the horses.

  Warm wisps of air crawled across his bare skin as he rose, seeing her come to him. Her face was calm, his face was troubled, but she did not speak as she neared him. He could feel the energy of her proximity, something inside him yearned for it; to be touched, to feel the warmth of another, to surrender. This need made him weak, made his muscles tingle in apprehension, brought him near to tears. Her dark hair shone and glowed, her skin was soft across her form, wild and silky. He lifted his hand for her, but she did not take it. She was looking at the scar across his chest, and she reached out to touch the misshapen skin that became crimson with his heated blood.

  Her fingers pressed against the red, cold gash but his numbed skin couldn’t feel them. He saw her hand tremble and raised his gaze to her face. Despair gripped him as he watched disgust and horror rip through her. He looked down. The wound was festering, opening, his skin was rippling. Before she could pull her hand away, the wound burst open and a swarm of black maggots erupted from it. She screamed as she recoiled from him and jolted back, but her hand was still swarming with the dark worms. He felt the multitude of vermin teeming across his skin. His feelings for her were quickly drowned underneath a surge of fear and pain as the worms flooded out of him, embodying him, consuming. They rippled across his chest, down his arms, up his throat. It was the disease, the darkness of his heart, and he gasped as they overtook his breath.

  He gasped. He was awake, clutching the thick sheets of his bed. He sat up, blinking as his hands gripped his shirt, ensuring himself that the bugs had been born from his dreams, and none still crawled across his skin. He felt his skin was slick with sweat and the covers irritated him, so he pushed them away and stood, searching for clean air to wake his nerves and shake the remnants of the nightmare.

  He didn’t find it in the warmed, thick air of his room, a bright fire still burning in the hearth, so he quit the room and opened the glass doors to the night. His skin shivered with the thick midnight wind, but he welcomed it and shut off the warmth behind him. He stepped onto the broad balcony, unable to see anything of the half constructed city beyond the castle, the desolate valley they dwelt in, or the dark peaks beyond. Clouds shrouded the stars, and he could only glimpse a faint glow of the light of the moon from behind them. So he stood in darkness and oblivion, letting the light wind wisp away the last feelings of destitution and terror the dream had left with him.

  There, in the nothingness, he sensed it. The wrong. His mistakes, and his brother’s mistakes. His pain, and the pain of his kingdom. His mind followed back, back, to the castle of his birth, to the land of his childhood, to the cradle of his thought. There, the darkness and the wrong were rooted. It grew. It festered. And now, how it changed the rest of his time, his space. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

  If he somehow could erase… He felt his heart bound to the doom in the distance, and he felt his power. He could purge the land of it. Reset it to its rightful purpose and course. He looked to the castle he stood in front of, though he did not see, he knew. He knew its stones, and the people below, inside, around. They were wrong. His mind advanced, like the wind, traveling and meeting each sleeping soul behind dusted glass, whispering against the creaking wood of their shelters, undulating through their stones and their walls. It was all his, in his capacity. Flames were in his heart, flames so bright they could cleanse out the darkness. Flame so bright it would awaken every sleeping soldier and citizen of Arnith, would burn every building and fortress they hid under.

  If he could embrace the flame, the reincarnation, he would have the strength to change it all. It would begin anew, like spring seedlings germinating through the ashes of a burnt wood, and everything would be right again. He grasped the stone rail, straightened and breathed in the wild air. He had the power, he could feel it. Magic and mystery, fire and control. Power, if he believed. Magic. Enough to set it all to flame. Enough, to reach his brother.

  Syah sighed and lowered his head. How foolish. There is no power, no magic strong enough to undo all that was done, all that he… The young king dropped his head in his hands and would have cried out if not for him tightening his chest and his jaw to hold his frustration, his desperation, inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  AN ANCIENT CREATURE

  Syah’s body woke to the sound of quick footsteps in the hall, but his mind hadn't been asleep. He had sat in the chair by the door, conceding to some relief from the cold standing in the darkness until his hands and fingers were almost too numb to reopen the door. But he hadn’t allowed himself complete
relief from the wild, frigid air; now partially open to let in a tempered, reminding breeze. This insurrection of the stubborn wind is what allowed him to hear shouts of alarm from outside, on the ground near the castle. Coupled with the mix of footsteps outside his chambers, Syah surmised some trouble was afoot. But the young king did not rise to discover its intent, for he had come to realize that all trepidation would find him, eventually.

  It was only a moment he waited, listening, before there was a knock on his chambers. Syah didn’t have to respond before soldiers entered, obviously disconcerted. Two waited protectively by the doorway as the other approached Syah to report.

  “My king,” he said in half breaths and bowed, and Syah saw that he was not one of his knights, but a young Gorusk warrior dressed somewhat in the fashion of his own soldiers. As he straightened, Syah could see the distress in his eyes. “A beast is attacking the city.”

  That woke the young king into action, though he did nothing but stand. “What king of beast?”

  “Flying. Massive wings, sire. It’s the size of… a four chamber building.”

  Syah, again, responded in calculated calm, “How did it attack?”

  The soldier shook his head, then looked nervously to the glass doors. “It killed some of our warriors close to town, and is nearing the castle. Come sire, it is not safe. We will take you to a more protected part of the castle.”

  The young king joined the soldier’s gaze to the windows and glass doorway, but he saw nothing but blue-gray sky. Syah took a step towards the windows, to reach the commanding view of the new city and the valley beyond. His guard moved forward to caution him, but they all were held by a swift, broad shadow suddenly cast upon the chambers, although the source of it could not be seen. After it had passed they were held by silent fear and mystification. Then they heard screams from outside the window, followed by men shouting. Syah made a move towards the window.