* * * * *
Far beyond the doors that were now closed, a tremble ruptured through the General's body.
Not one derived from fear, anxiety or angst. It was one bred from pure rage.
He had come to Kaldus simply to inform Idimus of the impending war. He had planned on reading the King's reaction when he asked for the sword. He knew he would never hand it over. Yet, it was trivial. The weapon was fake and held little to no power, and Gerin was not upset about walking away empty handed. He only wanted to see the tyrant's face when he asked for it, and when he lied to keep it.
What he had not imagined was that he would have an open window into Idimus' mind.
Since Gerin could remember, everyone’s mind had been accessible to him except for Idimus, Grahamas, Kalinies, Elryia and Jeralyle. Such a thing was common with magick users. They trained their minds all their lives; mental fortification came naturally. He imagined over his long life Grahamas had developed something similar. With them, he could feel the void. It didn't seem blatant, or like a mental wall. It was simply that the thoughts were like a mirror that had been painted over. The reflection was there, but it was buried further than he could see. With Idimus, it was different. His was almost violent. Every time Gerin had tried to peer into his mind, he could see the thoughts but he was forced away before he could ever decipher them. The harder he pushed, the more aggressively he was driven out. Yet, on this day it was gone, and all the things the King had hidden from him were released. He saw Fate as Idimus knew it. He saw Valaira and now knew her name. And he discovered every single deception and dishonor Idimus had implemented on him and all others.
He saw his mother.
Gerin, all his life, was told and imagined that he was left near Kaldus. That he was too freakish for his mother or anyone else to love him. His hate and despondence had generated directly from that. It's what had driven him to be the best, fueled him to hate. But the question had always lingered; a curiosity festered that he couldn't shake: Was that the truth?
When he asked Idimus that question, and looked into his mind, he got his answer. One that he found disturbing, but given the King's history—not surprising.
What Gerin believed was the exact opposite of what occurred. He was never given away. Rather, he was stolen. The image that flashed in the King's mind revealed as much. That of a petite blonde woman clutching a dagger with one hand and a tiny, mouth-less baby in her free arm. The young woman batted away three soldiers, fearlessly, that were intent on taking him. She cut one, stabbed the other and seemed as though she would not stop until she killed them—or they did so to her. It was then that Idimus stepped in. He was far too fast for her, and he showed—or even felt—no remorse as he snatched the child. Then plunged her own dagger into her stomach after she nicked him on the face with it. A scar he still held today.
After seeing that, Gerin withdrew. It was too painful, however more than he ever needed to supplement that lingering query. The woman fought with such fury, such disregard for her own safety that even in that brief moment, Gerin could tell she loved him—no matter how grotesque he was.
The vision bore deep into his psyche, stimulating the already existing betrayal that now possessed him. It took every bit of will power and discipline he had not to kill Idimus where he sat and Kalinies with him. But he refrained. His hatred for the King now surpassed murder.
Before he entered the chamber today, Gerin had planned to escape—either by deception or death—the moment the war ended, no matter the outcome. Part ways with his entire life, without saying a word as to why.
Now, Gerin required Idimus to suffer. Wanted it to be more than momentary. More than a blade against his throat or in his chest. He wanted the King to live a long, long life and to be tortured for every second of it. There was only one way to accomplish such a task: remove his guarantee. Lose the war that would determine the dominate reign for a thousand years.
As the General worked his way through the halls of Kaldus and back outside, a plan began to surface. Once he stepped onto the plank, waiting for the boatman, it was complete. He would fight the war. He would do so long enough to crush Elryia and earn at least a portion of his redemption. But before the die was cast, and the war determined, he would yield and claim Elryia the victor.
Such an act would certainly mean the end of his life, and he accepted that. Over the past month as he struggled with his own conscience and honor, he could not find any other way out. It was only in death that he would find freedom.
After such a long time spent in fraud and lies, he welcomed it.
And he was at peace, knowing he would have the vengeance that possessed him. Only, he would take it from Idimus. He would justify every lie ever said, every life ever spent at the hands of the warlord. His last thought would be in knowing that he bound the Puppet King to a thousand years of paranoia, fear, despair and pain.
To Gerin, it now didn't seem long enough.
In A Time Of Darkness Page 118
