Bael smiled, “Thank you, Sammul. Your aid will be invaluable. Bring me everything you can find. In the meantime, Mother, fetch the box.”
Marra stared at Sammul in dismay. He had been their secret weapon for decades, and her husband had done everything in his power to see that Sammul succeeded in his role at the Voralla. At times, Marra had been unsure if Rafael loved Sammul as the son that Bael had never been, never could be.
Until now.
It struck her as suddenly funny that in rising to meet his destiny, Bael had taken out his rage and demonstrated his true power not under his father’s tutelage, but against Rafael and Jorna. The horror of what Bael was doing faded from her mind.
He was taking responsibility, fulfilling his birthright, exactly the way Rafael had always wanted. She stifled a laugh as she wondered whether her husband had pictured himself in his current state when Bael finally came into his true talents.
“Very well.” she said finally. “I will fetch the box. But you will come with me. If you’re going to pursue this madness, you might as well be prepared for the challenges to come.”
With that she turned on her heel and marched towards the temple. Behind her, she heard a startled cry of agony. A woman screamed. Her smile emerged as the screams intensified.
She didn’t even pause to acknowledge her husband’s abrupt execution. It was no longer important. He was no longer important.
Now it was only Bael. Another terrible horror of a son. But the only son who made her proud. Even as a monster, she accepted that he was the least of three evils. Three demons that she had birthed, each extremely talented, yet unimaginably cruel.
Still, they were her children, her monsters. And if this one would become the greatest devil of all, she supposed she had no choice but to welcome his success. If she was to survive her children, she had no option but to invest in their success.
Even though it meant ending the world, her world, Marra realized that she didn’t particularly care. Her world had only offered disappointment and sadness. A husband who had given her more pain than any woman should ever endure. A realm that had turned its back on her, despite her best intentions. Children who could break the world. Or worse.
She would not miss this world, she decided. She would quite like to see what this Dark God would do to those who had hurt her, used and abused her. That sounded far more interesting than playing house in the hovel that was the Commune.
Marra reached the hide doors of Rafael’s cathedral. They opened for her on a burst of air and she glanced over her shoulder to find Bael and Sammul only paces behind her. The congregation followed at a distance, curious to see what their new Master would do, if he was telling the truth about their former leader. If he was telling the truth about the cathedral.
And the Third Key.
Marra had no such questions or qualms. She knew her son spoke the truth. She had done everything she could to keep her children from learning of their father’s terrible secret, and their horrid inheritance. She had hoped that the Third Key would never be found, never be glimpsed or even remembered. It seemed that Sammul and Darielle had other plans.
She swept through the cathedral, walking confidently to the third sept and stopped beneath a primitive frieze slathered on the hide wall of the massive tent. A small brazier crudely fashioned from brittle pig iron sat beneath the frieze, permanently unlit as a reminder of the encroaching darkness, and of the world’s inherent impurity. She placed her hand on the brazier’s side, her finger finding the proper groove in the coarse metal. She slid the hidden panel aside.
Marra reached into the darkness and pulled out the black box. The key rattled inside. Bael snatched it from her hands greedily, tearing off the lid and grasping the Third Key as though it were the rarest of treasures.
The tiny copper bird glimmered in the weak firelight. She had always thought it such a pretty trinket to possess such repulsive purpose. The Third Key. With it her son could unlock the first door to the Cathedral of Dazhbog. And with Sammul’s help, it was possible he would find each subsequent key and unleash the Dark God on the world.
Bael handed the key to Sammul, “Let us go tell the people of their new destiny. Let them rejoice in the shadow of the Dark God, for soon He shall be free once more.”
Sammul bowed before him and left the sept, the Third Key clutched tightly in his hand.
“There’s more.” she said softly.
Bael turned to her, “What?”
Marra reached into the hole and withdrew a rolled parchment. “Instructions, Son. This is a map of the Cathedral of Dazhbog. It’s been hidden for an Age, but your grandfather spent the better part of his life searching for it. And finally, he believed, he found the Cathedral’s entrance. But this is a sacred site. It will be heavily guarded. You will have to be very careful if you want to make it to the entrance.”
Bael chuckled, “We will see how these ‘guards’ handle the people of our congregation. We are weapons, Mother. Terrible weapons. Our sword will cut into our enemies and they will weep.”
“I only want you to be careful.” Marra allowed.
“I will take care,” Bael said with a sad smile. “I want you to take care as well, Mother. Embrace the Dark God and find peace in his Aftershadow.”
Marra opened her mouth to protest but Bael was faster. She felt his hand on her forehead and the spark of the Archanium that exploded in her brain.
Dying was so much more painful than she’d ever imagined.
CHAPTER 16
Bonded
SHIFT. ALEKSEI DARTED back, bringing his practice sword around to counter the blow. Shift. Vadim came barreling towards him like an arrow through water.
Aleksei lashed out with his boot and caught the Knight’s knee. Vadim cried out and twisted away as his feet flew out from under him.
In that instant, Aleksei returned his attention to the first attacker, striking three blows in rapid succession and relieving the man of his weapon.
He spun back towards Vadim and thrust his sword against the man’s throat. Time slammed back into place with a sickening lurch and for a moment Aleksei nearly lost his balance.
He stood in the center of the ring, his practice sword leveled at Vadim’s neck while the other Knight lay on his side, clutching his wrist.
“Match.” shouted the mediator, and the benches around the ring erupted with both cheers and jeers of staggering intensity.
Aleksei stood there, panting heavily, trying to catch his bearings before his stomach rebelled completely. He glanced down at the defeated Knights, at their murderous eyes.
“Well met.” he offered pathetically.
Vadim rushed to his feet, “Beginner’s luck, farm boy.”
Tamrix stood, ignoring Aleksei’s proffered hand and rubbing his wrist. “We don’t usually train quite so hard.” he growled.
Aleksei’s face flushed, “Sorry. I was just trying to keep up with the both of you.”
Tamrix glared at him and Aleksei weathered it with tired acceptance. Since he had arrived in Kalinor, his honesty was rarely met with anything but open hostility.
Yet despite the values he clung to, something within him had changed. It was akin to the shifts in time that he was slowly beginning to master, though not nearly as confusing.
This was something deeper, something powerful.
Hade and Toma rushed to their Knights, but as Aleksei scanned the benches he saw no sign of Jonas.
A moment later he looked upwards and saw the Magus regarding him critically from a high window. He waved cheerily and Jonas nodded. He could feel the other man’s pride beaming across their bond.
An impressive first day. Jonas' voice echoed in his mind.
Aleksei grabbed a length of toweling and wiped the sweat from his face. His body ached from the blows he’d sustained during the training bouts. And while the practice swords were merely bundles of reeds, their sting was enough to leave a welt at the least.
“Impressive, farm boy. Very impressive indeed. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone win a match on his first day. Certainly not against Vadim.”
Aleksei managed a tired smile, “Like he said, it was just beginner’s luck.”
Marrik snorted, “Don’t sell yourself short, boy. That was an impressive feat for even the most trained Knights. You have limited experience with a blade, which only makes it that much more amazing. Honestly, if we just get you a touch more training I’d bet you’ll be nigh unbeatable.”
Aleksei laughed at the idea, trying his best to cover how deeply uncomfortable Marrik’s praise made him. He’d never been so lauded in his life, and to suddenly have such adulation heaped upon him by someone as lofty as a seasoned Archanium Knight made him deeply uneasy.
“Too bad there’s not a war on.” Aleksei said, with a shrug.
Marrik’s face darkened, “It’s never a sad thing to be without enemies, Aleksei. Count every day of peace a blessing. Every solider, no matter how lowly, hates war above all other things.”
Aleksei felt foolish for the second time that day, though this stung more. Foremost among the Knights, he found himself seeking Marrik’s approval, but thus far it was an elusive benediction.
A hand clapped on Aleksei’s shoulder. “Well, boy, that was quite the sight to see.”
Aleksei turned, arching an eyebrow as he took in the sight of the portly, mustachioed man speaking to him.
“Thank you, Sir.” he said mildly, bowing his head.
Behind him, Marrik performed a much more formal salute. “Lord Captain Lenox, it’s a pleasure as always.”
Aleksei stiffened. The Lord Captain?
The paunchy man before him broke out into a large grin, his cheeks flushed, “You haven’t been too hard on one of my boys, have you Marrik? Wouldn’t want to start bad blood between the Guard and the Voralla!”
Marrik shrugged, “We’ve treated Aleksei fair enough, Lord Captain. It’s kind of you to let him train with us.”
Of all the Archanium Knights, only Marrik and Aya’s Raefan knew that Aleksei was bound to Jonas. The rest simply knew he was a captain in the Guard. A man favored by the royal family for a great service he’d provided, though no one knew the particulars.
Announcing that Aleksei had rescued Tamara from assassins would lead to questions, especially as often as he spent time with Jonas. The danger of someone figuring out that they were Bonded, and thus that Jonas was a Magus in his own right, was too great.
Lord Captain Lenox snorted, “I can hardly reject a request from the Prince, now can I?”
Aleksei repressed a sigh, now very uncomfortable with the whole situation.
It was bad enough that the two men were talking about him like he wasn’t there. That one of the men was the commander of all military forces in Ilyar somehow made it worse.
“Well,” Lenox continued, finally turning to him, “when you tire of this bunch, head over to the barracks. Doesn’t look like these boys can teach you much about swordplay.”
Aleksei returned the smile, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll be over later today.”
“I hope to see you. Have a pleasant afternoon, gentlemen.”
Aleksei stared at the Lord Captain as he walked away.
“Not bad.” Marrik muttered. “He’s a ridiculous man, to say the least, but you clearly impressed him.”
Aleksei shook his head. He had read stories about the Lord Captain of the Legions, but they had usually been stories of cunning, skill, of brilliant tacticians outwitting their foes. Somehow Lord Captain Lenox did not strike him as the sort to be outwitting anyone any time soon.
After a few more moments in silence, Aleksei excused himself. “I believe Jonas is expecting me for the midday meal.”
Marrik seemed surprised, “It’s custom for the newest Knight in the Voralla to eat with the rest of us in the mess hall. It gives us all a chance to get to become better acquainted.”
Aleksei smiled, “To be fair, Marrik, I’m not a Knight in the Voralla. I’m a captain in the Guard. If nothing else, it would make people ask questions.”
Marrik shrugged, “I suppose you’re right.” As Aleksei turned to go, the Knight put a hand on his arm. “But such distinctions shouldn’t preclude you from being my friend.”
Aleksei’s smile widened, “Of course not. Thank you.”
Marrik nodded, apparently pleased not to be turned away.
Aleksei made his way out of the practice yard and into the Palace, awkwardly fielding bobs and curtsies from passing staff. Never in his life had anyone bowed and scraped before him, yet now he was made perpetually aware of his station, often as a superior to those around him.
The only real refuge from this sort of behavior was to be found in either Jonas' apartments or his chamber in the barracks. At present Jonas' rooms made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being surrounded by so much finery.
Aleksei rounded the last corner and ran straight into the Queen, almost knocking her over.
“Majesty!” he exclaimed, jumping back to avoid a collision.
Andariana quirked a smile, “Really, Captain Drago, am I so frightful to you?”
Aleksei missed her playful tone, “No, Majesty, not at all. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”
“I appreciate your…sensitivity, Captain.” she said dryly, “Are you headed to see my nephew?”
It took him a moment to register the change of topic, “Yes, Majesty. I’ve just finished my training period.”
Her rosy lips curved into a smile, “I can see that.”
Aleksei realized his shirt was soaked with sweat, practically transparent and plastered against his skin, his hair a mess. He felt her eyes trace down his torso and his face flushed.
“Enjoy your luncheon, Captain Drago. I hope to see you at dinner.” She nodded her head to him and continued on her way down the hall.
Aleksei took a moment to gather his thoughts. That was certainly not how he’d imagined a chance encounter with the Queen.
“Aleksei?”
He looked up and found Jonas regarding him curiously.
“Is everything alright? You look a little flustered.”
Aleksei sighed, “I just ran into the Queen. Almost knocked her on the bloody ground, actually.”
“Well, I doubt she would have minded too much. She’s quite taken with you.”
Aleksei shrugged uneasily, “I’m beginning to get that impression.”
Jonas chuckled. For some reason, the prince received enormous pleasure from seeing Aleksei so easily unsettled by his various admirers throughout the Palace.
“Do you want to clean yourself up first? Or are you ready for lunch?”
Aleksei frowned, surprised that he’d been given the option.
“I should wash up. I don’t want to sully your fine furniture.”
Jonas shrugged, “It’s up to you. You can wash up in my apartments, if you like. I have a few of your uniforms in a wardrobe.”
Aleksei was surprised by the suggestion, but he nodded and headed off towards Jonas' rooms. Jonas followed, lingering by the doorway. His face colored as Aleksei stripped down. Aleksei washed the sweat away, aware of Jonas' eyes on his body and perplexed by the prince’s sheepishness.
He turned, towel in hand, “You said my uniforms are where again?”
Jonas looked away, his face turning a deeper scarlet. “In the maple wardrobe.”
Aleksei chuckled. “Catch.” he said playfully as he passed, tossing Jonas his towel. Jonas barely caught the wet towel in time and Aleksei resisted a grin at Jonas' intense confusion. It reverberated through their bond and he marveled at the complexity of the emotions he could feel emanating from the other man.
The more time he
spent with Jonas, the more he liked the man. He had found a friend in the Prince, and Aleksei realized that they were actually very well matched. Where Jonas was stubborn, Aleksei was accommodating within the bounds of good sense. Where Jonas was spoiled and petulant, Aleksei was grateful and patient.
Still, every now and then Aleksei reminded the Prince that just as he was having to accommodate the Kalinori lifestyle, he came with his own culture, and that was something Jonas would also have to grow accustomed to.
He doubted princes paraded around in the buff very often, but on his farm nudity had hardly been cause for shame. There was no real privacy on such a small property and he couldn’t count how many summers he’d spent swimming at the watering hole with Pyotr and the Bondar brothers after a day of cutting wheat. They swam naked because wearing trousers meant laundry, and the idea of adding work during Planting or Harvest was laughable.
Jonas and his very private, immaculately groomed existence had no room for such basic freedoms.
“So, is lunch prepared?” Aleksei asked as he buttoned up his shirt.
The prince nodded, attempting to his regain his composure. “It is. In fact, we’d better get to it before the partridge cools.”
They made their way into Jonas' dining chamber and sat on either side of an ebony table, inlaid with ivory in a pattern of inverted Dalitian holy symbols.
Aleksei studied the symbols, “These look familiar.”
Jonas frowned, “You’ve seen these before?”
“I’ve seen a book that contained a few of them.” Aleksei paused as he attempted to recollect the why and how of it. His eyes lit with memory, “This is Angelic Symbology.”
Jonas arched an eyebrow, “Very good. Would it be rude to ask how you came across such a book?”
“My father was raised up around here, on the other side of the Seil Wood. His mother was from Dalita and one of the books she brought with her had some of these on the binding. I used to try to make sense of them when I was a boy.”
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