Revelation

by C. A. McHugh

  The Raven Bringer hunched forward and pulled his cloak over his face, but it was too late. They’d seen him for who he truly was.

  And at long last, Ceryst could finally clear his name.

  “This isn’t over,” Rythis warned. He pulled out a small crystal orb. Dark smoke swirled within its center, growing larger until it broke free of its confines and turned into a flattened whirlwind that threatened to suck everyone into it.

  Raimel dug in his heels and wrapped his arms around Aerrin’s waist. Wherever it led, he didn’t want to go. But after combining their weight, his heels still slid along the ground toward it.

  What was left of the Raven Bringer’s forces didn’t fight. They flew into the black void like leaves tossed in an autumn storm.

  And above it all, the fiend’s laughter echoed through the cavern. “You’re all too late.”

  “You’re wrong!” Aerrin yelled as he cast one more spell.

  It was the same spell Seroney had used to trap Ceryst in a forest of vines, only Aerrin directed it toward the black swirling storm. The vines snapped and tangled in the gale, but bit by bit, they appeared to be clogging it up.

  Master Binnius smiled and cast the same spell, this time at the Raven Bringer’s feet.

  The more Rythis struggled, the tighter the vines wound. He roared in frustration, and two streams of fire blasted from his hands, burning the vines that clung to his arms, his legs, his chest. “Next time,” he warned before diving into the storm.

  The second he slipped into it, the swirling black mass folded in on itself until it was as small as the crystal had been.

  Then it exploded with enough force to knock them all off their feet. The roof of the cone-shaped cavern crackled, and pebbles rained down on them.

  Master Binnius cast a magical dome to reinforce it. “Everybody out!”

  Raimel hauled Aerrin up and shoved him toward Ceryst. “He’s your responsibility now,” he grumbled to the knight.

  Master Binnius was the last one to leave, and as soon as he stepped outside, the mountainside collapsed. He fell to his knees, his face lined with fatigue from holding the mountain up for so long. “It’s over for now.”

  Aerrin knelt by his side. “He was planning on attacking Dromore.”

  The headmaster shook his head. “He’s too weak to try that, but we can send a message of warning just in case.” He gave the king a weak smile. “You fought very admirably, Your Majesty.”

  “I learned from the best.” Aerrin helped the old man to his feet, the smile fading when he seemed to realize someone was missing. “Seroney?”

  “She was still alive when I left her with Master Eamon,” Raimel said, ignoring the twinge of fear for her life still lurking in his chest. “But she’s going to need a lot of prayers and a very merciful goddess.”

  No point in sugarcoating it. This was war. People died. And if Aerrin was going to become a good king, he couldn’t be shielded from the harsh, ugly truth.

  It still didn’t hurt any less, though.

  “Seroney is tougher than she looks.” Master Binnius patted Aerrin’s shoulder. “She’s my niece, after all.”

  Aerrin gave a weak smile to the headmaster and stepped forward to address the others who’d fought alongside him. “After sixteen years, we finally have a name, a face, to the man who terrorizes our kingdom. It’s not the man many of us thought it was. Those of you here can see that. Therefore, before all of you as witnesses, I hereby exonerate Sir Ceryst of Klone of any crimes he may have been accused of.”

  Ceryst bowed his head in gratitude.

  Or maybe it was just to hide those tears that were probably threatening to break through.

  Raimel nudged him with his elbow. “Finally a free man, eh?”

  The knight gave a single nod. “Finally.”

  Raimel knew how much this meant to his friend. Even his eyes were beginning to sting from the emotional release he was experiencing vicariously through him.

  Which meant he needed to ruin the moment as quickly as possible. “So, what do you think my chances for a royal pardon are?”

  Ceryst swung at him, which Raimel dodged as usual. But for the first time in fifteen years, the knight wore a genuine smile of joy. “Very slim.”

  “Thought as much.”

  Chapter 33

  Ceryst dug his fingers into his palm and struggled to bite his tongue as the Privy Council argued around him. Those idiots could be looking into the face of the Raven Bringer and still wouldn’t acknowledge he was alive.

  Of course, no one knew for sure if the Raven Bringer was still alive since no one knew where that black storm went. For all they knew, he could’ve gone to pay a visit to his master, Zelquis, and faced whatever punishment awaited him there.

  He stared across the table at Aerrin, who looked ready to tear his hair out in frustration. Time to adhere to his vows once again and protect the king.

  Ceryst slammed his fist on the table, halting all conversations, and rose from his chair. “The hour is late, and for those of who weren’t battling the Raven Bringer earlier today, might I remind you that His Majesty has endured a very trying day and would benefit not only from rest but the attentions of a healer?”

  The second part was more of an exaggeration. He was the one that needed the healer, not Aerrin. Apparently that girl had been kind enough to heal him when she first rescued him.

  Ceryst still inwardly seethed that Seroney had been the first one to get him—he was honest enough with himself to admit that—but if she hadn’t gotten there when she did, if she hadn’t been able to find him…

  As much as he hated to admit it, she’d earned his respect.

  Aerrin sent him a silent thanks before standing. “Sir Ceryst is most observant. We have been locked in these chambers for five hours, and we have yet to reach a consensus. I would urge you all to examine both your conscience and your resources and be ready to move forward when we reconvene in the morning.”

  Pride filled him as he watched Aerrin take control. He looked so much like his father just then.

  Correction—he looked better than his father. Aerrin had a steely determination that exceeded Brendon’s. He wouldn’t let the Privy Council walk all over him. He wouldn’t concede when it was something he was passionate about. And hopefully, that would keep him from making the same mistakes Brendon had.

  Aerrin left the room before those vultures could start pecking at him again, but Ceryst lingered long enough to look each of them in the eye.

  One of them was still a traitor.

  And as a newly appointed member of the Privy Council, he wasn’t going to rest until he’d ferreted them out.

  All of them looked away. But then, they’d all been calling for his head until a few hours ago.

  He turned and escorted Master Binnius out.

  Raimel was waiting in the antechamber. “Any news?”

  “Just that they’re still a bunch of useless windbags,” Ceryst replied before turning to the headmaster. “You need rest, too.”

  “Are you suggesting that I’m old and infirm?” But the old man’s fatigue still undermined his attempt at a joke. “But you are correct, Sir Ceryst, in that we could all use some sleep.”

  “In a few minutes, if you please.” Aerrin beckoned them to follow him. “I’d like to have a word in private with the three of you.”

  Raimel puffed up his chest. “Ooh, he said the three of us. I guess that includes me, huh?”

  Ceryst smacked him in the gut, deflating his friend’s self-importance. “Shut up and do as the king commands.”

  Raimel mimicked him in silence, pursing his face into a pissy scowl.

  One day, I’m going to have to teach him some manners.

  But not today.

  Raimel was the one who’d taken him where he needed to be today. Who’d stood by his side and had his back for the last fifteen years. Who’d been a true friend to him even when he was still reeling over the loss of his best friend and grieving too much to
think straight.

  He owed a lot to Raimel, and he hoped he’d be able to repay him one day.

  They’d only gone a few steps when Prince Altos emerged, his movements sluggish and dazed. His normally carefree face had turned to a pale mask of disbelief. He went straight to Aerrin and asked, “Are you sure it was Rythis? I mean, my own brother…”

  Ceryst joined them. “It was him.”

  Altos lifted his haunted eyes to him. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  It was the first apology he’d received since his name had been cleared, and he would never forget it. Ceryst placed his hand on the prince’s shoulder, keeping his arm stiff as he would when greeting a fellow knight. “Thank you.”

  Aerrin followed Ceryst’s lead and placed his hand in the same manner on his uncle’s other shoulder. “Get some sleep. I’ll need all the clear heads I can get in the morning.”

  Altos nodded and shrugged them both off. “You’re right.”

  He stumbled off to his room like a drunken man, even though he hadn’t had a drop to drink while they’d been in the council chambers.

  “Let’s go before the others catch us,” Aerrin grumbled.

  Once they were in the king’s private quarters, Aerrin cast a spell that wrapped all the doors and windows in green magic.

  Master Binnius chuckled and sank down into his favorite chair. “I see Seroney has taught you how to use a ward of seclusion.”

  “She’s taught me more than that.” Worry washed over his features. “Any word on her condition?”

  The old man shook his head. “Master Eamon is the most capable healer I know. She is getting the best care she can receive.”

  The reassurances did little to alleviate Aerrin’s fears, so Ceryst stepped forward. “Raimel and I will check on her after we’re done.”

  “Dragging me into something else without even asking my opinion?” his friend replied.

  Ceryst cracked his knuckles. “Would you rather sit at the Privy Council?”

  “No, and I have the distinct impression you don’t want to, either, or you wouldn’t have volunteered our service.”

  Aerrin wedged himself between them and pushed them as far apart as possible. “Do you two ever stop?”

  “Only when we’re kicking some demon ass.” Raimel grinned. “And by the way, what was the final count?”

  “Thirty-seven and a whack on the Raven Bringer’s head.”

  “You win.” Raimel’s grin widened.

  “Enough.” Aerrin dropped into a chair and pressed his hand to his forehead. “My head already aches enough from five hours of uselessness.” He took a deep breath. “I brought you here because I trust all of you, which is more than I can say about the Privy Council. The goddess help me, there’s even part of me that’s giving Altos the side-eye now. How do I know he hasn’t been in league with Rythis this whole time? I mean, my father’s own brother? His twin?”

  Aerrin’s voice cracked, and Ceryst wished he could do more to comfort him. “We were all fooled, although now looking back on things, I’m not totally surprised.”

  Aerrin snapped his head to attention. “What are talking about?”

  “I suspect that Rythis might have been behind many of the trials your father faced as king. He might have been the one who started the rumors of your parents having an affair while your mother was still married to the Duke of Sauvegny. And I find it more than just a coincidence that the Raven Bringer rose to power shortly after your father won the civil war that erupted from those rumors. Rythis even said to you today—he wanted what should’ve been his if not for mere minutes.”

  “Ceryst has a very valid point,” Master Binnius said. “Rythis was a skilled mage, but he always felt like he was stuck behind your father’s shadow. People loved Brendon, and they followed him because of the respect he earned. Rythis, on the other hand, had a petty, selfish streak, which was why his supposed sacrifice at the Battle of Innishmore surprised me.”

  “And now we all know it was the biggest scam in the history of the kingdom.” Raimel helped himself to a generous glass of the king’s sherry. “I wonder how many mind manipulation spells he had to cast that day.”

  “We all know it was a lie, so let’s move on to more concerning matters.” Aerrin leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his gaze on Master Binnius, “Do you know anything about a crystal orb that can magnify powers?”

  For a man who’d lived many years and seen more things than anyone else in the room, the master mage drew in a sharp breath at the mention of the orb. “Yes, I do,” he said at last.

  “What is it?”

  “I fear he may have learned of the Tears of Elios, and if he has, then we have considerable reason to worry.”

  “Were these the same crystals used to create the Great Divide?” Aerrin asked.

  Master Binnius lifted his brows in surprise. “You know the legend?”

  “Seroney told me.”

  “Then you know what kind of forces they can unleash.” Binnius stroked his beard. “But there is a ray of hope in this because if that orb he used today was truly one of the Tears, then he would have lost it once he used it.”

  Ceryst tried to follow his logic. “You’re speaking in riddles, Master Binnius.”

  “Perhaps.” He continued to stroke his beard. “But I can assure you that the Tears were not meant to be held prisoner by any one person. The goddess was very clever in designing them that way.”

  “More riddles.” Ceryst eyed the decanter of sherry. If this continued, he’d need a drink.

  Binnius chuckled. “I have knowledge of a great many things, but there are some who know more about these sacred objects than I do, and I will employ their help.”

  “Because they live in Oudesta, correct?” Aerrin focused his attention on the old man.

  And to his credit, Master Binnius didn’t reply with another riddle. “Correct, Aerrin.”

  “Like your little lore-keeper, perhaps?” Ceryst asked, referring to the girl who’d proven to be far more helpful than he’d first thought.

  “Perhaps.” A hint of sadness infused his one-word response. “But she’s not the only one, and there are others who can provide me with even more information. But one thing I can confirm is that once someone uses one of the Tears of Elios, it goes back into hiding. Therefore, the Raven Bringer should not be able to use that particular orb’s power again.”

  Ceryst reached for his sword, an old habit he depended on to settle himself when he picked up on something dangerous. “You said should.”

  “Indeed, I did, because according to legend, if you have one of the Tears, it will reveal to you the location of the other nine.”

  “Which means that asshole could be treasure hunting right now.” Raimel downed the contents of his glass and poured another. “Do you know anyone who might have access to another one of these crystals so we can try and beat him to it?”

  Master Binnius responded with an amused smile. “Perhaps.”

  “Then I suggest you pursue that information and report back to me immediately.” A yawn interrupted Aerrin’s command, but he still wouldn’t stop until he finished his plan. “I’m thinking I might have to form my own little force of treasure hunters.”

  “I know a few good thieves,” Raimel offered.

  The cynical look Aerrin gave him spoke volumes. “I doubt I’ll need their services.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong, Your Majesty.” Raimel set his glass aside, looking gravely serious for once in his life. “Don’t make the mistake your father made by dismissing those you consider beneath you. It’s not just the crown that’s threatened by the Raven Bringer. It’s the entire kingdom. And if you continue to sow division among your people, then you are just as dangerous as he is. The only way to defeat him is to use every ally you can get, and it shouldn’t matter if they’re from the Kingdom of Thieves or Oudesta. As long as they’re willing to fight against him, then they should be treated with the same respect as you’ve giv
en any one of us here in this room.”

  Ceryst absorbed each statement, nodding. “Nice to hear some common sense from you.”

  “I have my moments.” Raimel refilled his glass. “And I’ll gladly offer my services as a diplomat to His Majesty.”

  The perturbed expression on the king’s face slowly eased. “I will think on it. But for now, I’ve shared my concerns with you, and I hope you will continue to assist me in addressing them.”

  “We will.” Master Binnius rose from his chair, leaning heavily on the arm rest as he did so. “Let us leave you to your rest, Your Majesty.”

  Aerrin dropped the ward, and the headmaster ushered them out. “I fear this is more complicated that I first thought,” he said once they were in the corridor.

  “Because of the crystals?”

  Binnius nodded. “They are extremely powerful, and if they are corrupted…” His voice trailed off, and he moved forward. “I cannot dwell on conjectures that lack evidence. I can only take what I have learned and come up with a way to combat it. Besides, I have my own set of concerns to address.”

  Ceryst fell into step beside him. “Such as?”

  “I have my own traitor to deal with. Someone created a gate within the Academy. Someone attacked the wards that guarded it. And someone assisted the Raven Bringer in kidnapping the king today. All of these represent a failure on my part.”

  “Do you have a suspect?”

  “I do, but if it was him, then the gods have already punished him for his treason.” He paused and turned to him. “I know you offered to return to the Academy to report on my niece’s condition, but I have another favor to ask of you and Raimel. It requires discretion, though.”

  “I’m the king of discretion,” Raimel boasted.

  “Go through Master Philgus’s possessions, but also keep your eyes open for anyone else who might raise your suspicions.” The old man continued walking. “Right now, I am most needed here.”

  “Don’t worry, Master Binnius.” Ceryst cracked his knuckles, relieved to have something active to do. “We’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you. And if you get a chance, I’m sure King Aerrin would greatly appreciate the company of his closest friends.”