Fallen Paladin (The Paladin's Curse Book 2)

by Kristell Carnie

  “You didn’t see what we saw, Rayna! You weren’t you! You were one of them, just more in human form. Your eyes were wild, the skin that wasn’t glowing blue was as white as they are. You had claws and sharpened teeth for God’s sake. What else do you need? Do you have to tear someone apart to prove it to yourself that you are not safe? You are dangerous, to everyone, including yourself.”

  I sit down, deflated and hurt from the truth which keeps tailing me.

  I’m dangerous. It’s not just me in jeopardy anymore. I’ve reached a point of no return. I can’t continue to sit back and allow myself to hide from the truth.

  “Will it work?” the defeat ringing in my voice from my 180 has them all hurting, each in their own way.

  “Will it?” Ellestra repeats my question. “How do we even know that cutting off her arm will stop what is happening to her?”

  A new-found fear spikes the atmosphere.

  “What if it doesn’t? If you chop off my arm and I’m still turning into a monster, what then? Will you simply kill me and be done with it?”

  My brutally honest question takes them all by surprise, bringing to light a new alternative that has us all searching for an answer. No one had thought that far ahead, no one that is except Zaneth. I can see it in his eyes. He’s thought of it and I know that he would not hesitate if it came down to a choice between a mutated me or his people.

  “Well I guess that answers my question.”

  “Rayna.” Zaneth steps forward, his empty hand reaching out awkwardly to stop me.

  I step back, a sad smile pulling at my lips.

  “No, it’s okay. I get it, really, I do. After all, I’m turning into a monster. I’m dangerous. Better to get rid of me now before I can cause any more damage.”

  Kozhan sits down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees as he bows his head forward, his raven hair obscuring his face so I can’t see the internal fight he is facing. Calasis and Ellestra don’t bother to hide their fluctuating emotions, and a part of me is happy to see how upset they appear for what’s to come.

  I know none of them wants this to happen any more than I do, yet they can’t deny what I’ve become, what has nearly taken over me so completely that I can’t hide from it anymore.

  What’s worse is that I know without a doubt that none of them will stop what will happen, no matter how much it breaks their hearts. Not one of them will fight for a different outcome if I do mutate beyond myself. They will all stand back and watch as I fall to Zaneth’s sword. And I know it will be Zaneth who will eventually take my life, he’s the only one strong enough to sacrifice his own guilt, and I respect that, even as I hate it.

  “Alright then.” I walk towards the door, leaving the Healing Chamber for the last time. “Just allow me tonight. Give me one more night to deal with this, and tomorrow it will be done.”

  I don’t meet their eyes as I walk out, I can’t tolerate seeing their pity, to feel sorry for them when I know that I will be sacrificed if it comes down to that.

  That little selfish part of me wants to hate them for giving up on me so easily, and for pushing me towards a desperate end. If only I had more time to fix this, to stop what is happening to me, then it might be alright, I could survive the curse.

  I didn’t dare tell them the full truth. I didn’t let on just how connected I became to the Zantronian Hive mentality or how their kind now views me as someone so important that they would willingly die for me.

  How different things have become so quickly. Any one of the Zantronians would sacrifice themselves for me, that point has already been proven, and yet my own friends, people I have fought for and risked my life for, are the ones who now stand by, accepting a fate that will leave me maimed or worse yet, dead, all because they fear what I’m becoming.

  Not long ago I might have considered the same fate if I had been the onlooker, wanting nothing more than to protect myself and those closest to me. Now I see things differently. I’ve been forced to. And this newfound maturity also allows me to sympathise with them, bugger it. I can’t hate them for what will always haunt them. They are in an impossible situation too. I’ve run out of time, we all have.

  Unless I’m somehow granted a miracle, tomorrow I will lose my arm, and perhaps my life. So many regrets fill my heart, but none as great as my sorrow for failing Blay. He deserved so much better than me.

  I wander the halls, no longer needing directions, the path infused in my mind like a scar on the skin. I don’t want to be anywhere else tonight. If this is to be my last night alive, then I want to be as close to Blay as possible.

  Pushing open his bedroom door, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his lingering earthy scent. I allow my eyes to close for just a moment, pretending that he is here, that at any second he will come up behind me, leaning close enough for his energy to engulf me completely without actually touching me. The thought of his breath on my neck sends goose bumps across my skin as my heart thumps out a new rhythm of excitement mixed with pain.

  Resting against the cool door I allow the daydream to dissipate. I can’t hold onto a life that will never be. The pain of even entertaining the thoughts of how differently my life would have turned out if only I hadn’t taken Garvien’s ring is too much for me to handle on top of everything else.

  My life is such a screw-up and I’m glad Blay isn’t here to see what I’ve become. Perhaps in a way it’s a blessing that he isn’t here after all. I know in my soul that he would never allow Zaneth to go through with his plans. Blay would find another way, any other way, he wouldn’t be reduced to amputating my arm and there’s no way he would surrender my life out of fear.

  He would fight for me, instead of turning his back like the others will do. And I honestly don’t know if I could endure it, facing him fighting for my life while I know there is no other alternative. No, having him on my side would be a mistake. One that I at least don’t have to worry myself with. He is not here. And maybe soon I won’t be either.

  A thought runs wild in my mind, the excitement easing the ache inside my chest. Maybe something good can come from this. Once the bracelet is removed, maybe Karadese can do a trade? Give the bracelet back to Garvien in exchange for Blay being returned. Suddenly my sacrifice doesn’t feel so daunting. Perhaps some good can come from this mess after all.

  The events of the last few days weigh down on me and suddenly I’m so completely exhausted. My body is drained, the Nevithan zapping my energy to a new low, while my mind is still overactive, refusing to settle down with so much uncertainty looming over my future.

  I plod quietly over to Blay’s bed, making a quick detour to retrieve the book I stashed days earlier in the base of his chair. My heart squeezes with the rare sensation of happiness when my fingers touch the soft leather, reassuring me that it wasn’t found and that once again I will get a chance to dive into a world where nothing makes sense. Seems pretty ironic really, swapping one reality for another, both equally thrown into turmoil.

  Settling down into his bed I almost sink into the mountain of pillows and pull the covers right up to my neck trying to chase away the chill inside myself. I may be anxiety ridden, but at least I’m comfy.

  I flick to the last page I read, recalling the author’s heavy heart as they spoke words of their unexpected upturned fate, of the one who began their demise and I wonder aloud what that could possibly mean. I sink further into bed, using the words to carry me away, to distance myself from my own reality and worry about someone else’s for a change.

  No one could have foreseen the outcome which plagued us. The possibility that one man, driven from his home as retribution of his sinful soul, cursed to roam the blackened lands as a creature evident to the eye of his dishonourable nature, would prosper into a being who terrorised worlds and spawned a pack of evildoers who shared his malevolent desires – the notion is preposterous, though nonetheless, true.

  I write this tale, for all to remember, to never forget who we are and who started our demise. Time
will distort our history, the events of our world will be twisted, shaped to deny our own wrongdoing, although I pray we will never forget, never allow ourselves to make the same mistake.

  All it took was for one, the elder of two sons, born to rule our world, the beautiful lands of Prytora, to lead us into a new generation of prosperity. Yet it was evident to all those who were close to him, the future king, that his heart was iced with a poisonous shell. He did not honour prosperity, love and compassion as did the bloodline before him, he only revelled in the suffering of others.

  Our king saw the evil lurking in his eyes and swore the throne to his youngest son, pure of heart and soul, and so began the upturning of our world.

  The former heir acted without remorse, choosing to cut down his brother’s life in a malicious act of cowardliness. Thankfully the God’s smiled upon us and granted our world a miracle, allowing the youngest to survive the deadly attack.

  Our king was outraged, his heart broken from his eldest son’s betrayal. He acted swiftly and without remorse, bringing forth the finest of the Magic Weavers to enchant an heirloom, one made of pure gold and a stone as black as his firstborn son’s soul.

  Magic was embedded into the elements, the band burning under the fire of intensity as a curse engraved into the metal, casting a poison to disfigure its wearer for all the days he should live, to damn his soul for all of eternity. And with the magic embedding the band into his flesh, the heir began his penance.

  Though magic is a peculiar entity. One man’s curse is another’s power.

  The cursed one used his hatred to manipulate the magic, unleashing powers beyond comprehension. He grew in strength and soon had followers of his own. The prince of Prytora, original heir to the throne, became a king after all.

  Ruler of Zantron. King Veridom. The most hellish of men on all the worlds, in all the galaxies.

  Oh my God. Veridom. Veridom was once a Prytorian. He was once heir to Prytora. How can that be?

  I scan the writing, my mind picking out the pieces which click the puzzle into place. This book, once hidden and forgotten, suddenly takes on a whole new meaning.

  It is not just a fairy-tale or omen of what’s to come. It’s a retelling of fact. Laying bare the truth of where the Zantronians come from, what started the war between the two kinds in the very beginning.

  Even Queen Karadese doesn’t know the truth of how it all began, she said so herself, the war has raged for as long as she has known.

  And now the truth is right here, written in black ink on thick, crinkled, cream paper, a secret long forgotten, bound in green leather and hidden away.

  Veridom was once a prince of Prytora. He was the brother to a long-ago king, a king whose bloodline still runs through the veins of royalty today.

  Veridom, King of Zantron, is in fact related to Karadese, to all of the Lonix family.

  The thought makes my head spin. This is huge! But why has this been kept a secret? Why has this been hidden away instead of taught in history lessons to stop the repeating of such gravitational mistakes? And how did this person, the unknown writer, who has penned his memories so they wouldn’t be forgotten, know to do so? How did he know that the origin of the Zantronians would be swept away, cast from the people’s minds?

  I scan the words again, hoping that something will jump out at me and make sense of it all. My eyes stop, lingering on a single sentence.

  ‘He acted swiftly and without remorse, bringing forth the finest of the Magic Weavers to enchant an heirloom, one made of pure gold and a stone as black as his firstborn son’s soul.’

  I re-read it several times, something about it bugging me and yet I can’t figure out what.

  Frustrated I rest back, closing my eyes for just a moment, wanting nothing more than to unlearn the truth. This is all too much to take in. Too painful to even contemplate.

  The Prytorian people are all so nice. Everyone I’ve encountered has been kind and compassionate. They give hope to every species, a hope that maybe, one day, all planets can live in such harmony.

  How then did the purest of the bloodlines become corrupt? The idea that Veridom once roamed this castle, played in the halls or slept in these rooms, makes my stomach heave and shatters my delusions of a perfect world.

  I sigh deeply and my eyes flutter open to stare up at the wooden ceiling above me. How many times has Blay lain in this bed, gazing at each slate of wood, counting the joints and grooves as he tried to figure out what to do next?

  What would he do now, with this new knowledge splintering my brain? Would he keep it to himself, protect the Prytorian people, his mother, his entire family, from the truth which could cause so much unnecessary hurt and create ramifications all of its own? Or would he speak up, spill the truth in the hopes that somehow this new information might help in some way, no matter how small the chances of that are?

  If only he was here now, making this decision for me, instead of me struggling with the burden of this knowledge. If I had more time to think this all over, to figure out what the right thing to do is, then maybe I could come to the right answer. But the reality is right here, kicking my butt, niggling at the back of my mind telling me that I’m fast running out of time.

  I don’t know if I’ll make it through tomorrow, and even if I do, will I still be the same person, will I still feel the same obligations to these people after they have stripped me of a limb?

  Right now, is all I’ve got, it’s the only thing that is certain. That and the truth of the beginning. I can’t take that with me. I’ve got to show the queen. I have to make sure she knows the truth, no matter the consequences.

  I’m about to leave Blay’s room, pulling the door open and switching off the light when the red jewel of the bracelet catches the light, sending sparkling prisms across the room.

  I freeze in the doorway, watching the colour dance, disconcerted by just how much it reminds me of the blood splatters of a crime scene, when all of a sudden, the niggling uncertainty which plagued me while reading the book becomes clear.

  Running my fingers across the band I stare at the jewel, my head leaning to the side as I pinpoint the problem.

  The band is engraved with words I can’t translate, yet I know without a doubt that it is the same curse as what is written in the book.

  But how can that be? My bracelet has a red gem, not black like the one Veridom’s father made the Magic Weaver curse. And I clearly remember seeing Veridom wearing that ring while I was held captive. How then is it possible for me to be wearing another cursed band?

  My heart begins to pound in my chest as my mind throws up increasingly dire possibilities.

  All I know is that this has all gotten out of control. I’m in over my head and I need help.

  It’s time to come clean about everything. I only hope that Karadese will be able to handle the haunting truth I’m about to dump on her.

  Chapter Twenty

  I don’t bother going to Karadese’s quarters, I know she won’t be there. We are more alike than I had ever thought possible. Neither one of us could lie in bed, dwelling on what the future holds or waiting for someone else to save us from ourselves.

  I find Karadese exactly where I knew she’d be, the same place I would be if I had the same power she does.

  She doesn’t bother looking away from the image floating mid-air over the Eidolon Eye to see me enter. Her focus is solely on the same thing that grips my heart, freezing the breath inside my lungs as soon as I see him.

  Blay is worse, so much worse. From one look at his wounded body, it’s clear to see that the torture has escalated to extreme levels, and still he holds on, refusing to cave in to Garvien’s demands. Yet I can see it on his face, how his taut jaw hangs loose, the light in his eyes dimmer than I’ve ever seen them before, his strength all but gone.

  “He can’t last much longer,” I whisper.

  We’ve both run out of time, him and I, worlds apart yet similar paths lying before us.

  “It’s a m
iracle he’s lasted as long as he has. Blay is strong, though I fear he will submit before long.” Karadese drags her gaze from his shackled body to look at me, her eyes filled with a steely determination which leaves me cold.

  “What will happen if he submits?” I don’t know what is worse, waiting for her answer or the vivid images which play out inside my mind, providing me with nightmarish possibilities of what’s to come.

  “More suffering than you could possibly imagine, Rayna. If Blay relinquishes knowledge of how to bypass our Realm’s borders then there is no doubt in my mind that the Zantronian fighters will storm our lands. All that will follow is death and misery. No one will be safe, especially not now with our most recent losses.”

  I don’t want to believe what she says, yet I can’t deny the inevitable. Blay is barely hanging on. He won’t last much longer, the only question is will he cave, give Garvien what he wants, or will his body give up first, tortured beyond a point of survival and be lost to us forever? Neither option is one I’m willing to consider.

  Normally I’d act on instinct, use my frustration and fear to propel me into action. This time I’ve got to be sensible, I’ve got one chance to make things right. Blay’s life depends on it.

  “What can we do?”

  “What should have been done in the very beginning.” Karadese side-steps the Eidolon Eye, coming to stand directly in front of me and grabs my hand in hers.

  “I need your help, Rayna. Will you help me?”

  “Karadese, before anything else happens, there’s something I must tell you.”

  “Nothing else matters now, only your word, bound to me by a promise. Will you give me your word?”

  My eyes flicker around the room, trying to find a way to slow everything down, but all I see is Blay’s beaten body and the fear filled determination in Karadese’s eyes. I owe her so much, I owe both of them my life, and I’d do anything to help them, no matter what.

  “Yes, you have my word. I will do anything you need.”