The Restored King (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 4)

by Richard Fierce

  Mel nodded. “I understand,” he replied. “When he wakes, I will tell him you were here.”

  “Thank you,” Garrick said.

  “No,” Mel shook his head. “Thank you. For honoring your word to him. And for risking your life. Standing up to Mordum like you did …”

  Garrick shrugged. “I don’t know how I did it,” he said.

  They stood quietly as they stared at Aramis’s body, still except for his breathing.

  “I will come check on him after I have things in order,” Garrick said.

  Mel nodded and Garrick left the room. Mel was surprised that Lynessa would not leave Aramis’s side. Another day passed before there was a change in Aramis.

  “Water,” a voice woke Mel. He rose from the chair he was sleeping in and saw that Aramis had his eyes open.

  “Water,” Aramis rasped again.

  “Thank the goddess!” Mel exclaimed. He rushed to pour a glass of water from a carafe the servants had left, almost spilling it in his excitement. Bringing the cup to Aramis, he helped hold it while Aramis struggled to lift his head up to take a drink.

  Aramis fell back against the pillow. His eyes shifted back and forth across the room. “Where …”

  “We’re in the castle. This is your room,” Mel answered. “How are you feeling?”

  Aramis moved his head weakly to the side so that he could look at Mel. “I feel like death,” he whispered. “Mordum?” he asked.

  “Dead,” Mel said solemnly. “And we nearly lost you as well.”

  “How?” Aramis rasped.

  “We’ll get to that when you are better. You should rest.”

  Aramis’s eyes slowly closed and his breathing slowed. Mel watched worriedly, but soon realized Aramis had fallen asleep. He looked up as Lynessa rose from the chair she had been sleeping in.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Aramis was awake,” Mel answered with a smile. “He spoke a little, but I told him to rest.”

  “Oh, thank Zevea,” she whispered.

  “I couldn’t say it any better,” Mel said.

  Aramis slept through the rest of the day, waking as dinner was being brought in by the servants. Having regained a small amount of strength, Aramis was able to sit up. The three of them ate together in silence until Aramis spoke.

  “I feel like I’ve been trapped in a dream,” he said. His voice was stronger.

  “The last few days have felt like a nightmare,” Lynessa said quietly.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Almost four days if you count today,” Mel answered. “It’s good to see you awake. I was afraid …” he left the sentence unfinished.

  “My body feels like it fell down a mountain,” Aramis said, rubbing the muscles in his right arm. “What happened? All I remember is the storm, and then … it’s all foggy after that.”

  Mel took a deep breath and related everything, pausing hesitantly when he got to the part where he stabbed Aramis in the chest.

  “How am I alive?” Aramis asked.

  “Zevea,” Mel replied. “She did something. She gave you a breath of air, but it was … different. I can’t explain it.”

  Aramis was surprised. The goddess had saved his life? All the anger he felt toward the gods hadn’t left, but maybe he could forgive them in time.

  “Where is she?” he asked. “I should probably thank her.”

  “She’s dead,” Mel said, the sadness in his eyes evident. “Mordum dealt her a mortal wound. He also killed Tael. Zevea helped you with her dying breath.”

  Aramis digested the words. “If the gods are dead,” he said, “then we have no one to rely upon but ourselves. Just how life was before all of this.”

  “Well,” Mel paused, “there are other gods, though I don’t think they meddle in the affairs of men as much.”

  Mel glanced to Lynessa. “There’s something else,” he said. He looked back to Aramis. “I didn’t get the chance to tell before, when you …” he trailed off.

  “Lost my wits?” Aramis finished for him, smiling wanly.

  “I would have said it a bit more pleasant, but yes. We found Lord Bavol.”

  Aramis raised his eyebrows. “Where is he? Is he all right?”

  “No,” Mel said. “He was dead. Murdered, by the looks of it. By Mordum’s orders, no doubt. And you know we found Hannah.”

  Aramis closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I’m sure she must hate me.”

  “No,” Mel answered. He motioned to one of the servants and then left the room in a rush.

  “What of Adamar? Is he dead?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” Mel said. “We haven’t found his body. He’s just … gone.”

  A moment later, the servant returned with Hannah following closely behind her.

  “Aramis!” she shouted. She ran to the bed and jumped onto it, wrapping her arms around Aramis. Weakened as he was, he could only smile as she tackled him to the bed.

  “Careful, please, m’Lady!” Mel cried in exaggerated terror.

  “It’s fine,” Aramis said. He returned Hannah’s embrace and they stayed like that, holding each other for a long moment. Finally, Hannah released him and helped him sit back up.

  “I’m so happy you are alive,” she said. Her eyes welled with tears and one escaped, sliding down her cheek. Aramis reached up and wiped it away before kissing her.

  “Me too,” he said.

  Lynessa cleared her throat. Everyone turned their attention to her. Her simmering anger was apparent. “Who is this Hannah?” she asked, glaring coldly at the her.

  “She is my betrothed,” Aramis answered, confused by Lynessa’s reaction.

  Lynessa stiffened. “Well … congratulations. I’m glad that you are back with the living,” she said. “I must be going. My army and my city are waiting on me.”

  “Thank you,” Aramis said to her. “I know you had your own problems in Keswick to take care of, even after the Warlock had been dealt with. Thank you for coming to my aide. I am indebted to you.”

  Lynessa curtsied, her anger still noticeable. Then she turned and left the room.

  “A woman scorned,” Mel said softly as he watched her go. He looked at Aramis, wondering if there was more between them than Aramis had let on.

  —

  Lynessa fumed as she strode across the courtyard. How could he choose another woman over her? She had welcomed him into her bed.

  Fine.

  If he didn’t want her, she would find someone else. She ordered her army to begin moving out.

  As she led her army across the plains of Oakhaven, she watched the vultures pick at the bodies that had fallen in battle. She led their pace and they marched slowly home. Ahead, something caught her attention on the road. As they neared the form, Lynessa realized it was a man crawling on all fours. His head turned toward them as they approached and she caught sight of the arrow lodged in his eye.

  “Help him,” she said, thinking he might be a wounded civilian. His clothes were dirty and tattered. “Let the healers help him and bring him back to me.”

  The soldiers did as she ordered and she welcomed him warmly, inviting him to come and live in Keswick. The man gladly accepted the offer.

  —

  Adamar heard the approaching army before he saw it. He wanted to move before they saw him, but he was too weak. His injuries had taken their toll and it was all he could do to crawl as slowly as he was. When he heard the lady order her men to help him, he smiled. He knew someone would take him in. Someone always took him in.

  —

  Jovanna could feel herself drifting along the currents of magic. Everything around her looked real, but it all felt different. Someone was there, just out of her sight. When she tried to see who it was, the shadow moved, always staying out of sight. After a while, she gave up.

  Time was nonexistent.

  Eventually, she began to feel weighted down again. Once, her eyes fluttered open and she glimpsed a stone chamber. She had
grown accustomed to the darkness and wondered if death blinded everyone. Feeling finally came back to her, and she could feel her muscles. They ached and felt like fire when they twitched.

  And then her eyes opened again, and this time they stayed open. Her gaze took in every detail of every stone above her. The small grooves and cracks, the cobwebs, everything.

  She was different. And she was not alone.

  “I wondered when you’d find your way back,” a smooth voice said. It was a woman.

  Jovanna turned her head. The woman was beautiful. Her skin was bronze and her eyes were a vibrant green. She had flowing long hair, so blonde it was almost silver. Her wrists and ankles were adorned with gold and silver bracelets. She wore a thin, sheer robe which did little to cover her nakedness.

  “Who are you?” Jovanna croaked.

  “My name is Vashah,” the woman answered.

  “Where—” Jovanna’s voice cracked and her body shook with a coughing fit. Vashah brought a bowl filled with water and helped Jovanna drink some.

  “You are in my home, atop Red Mountain,” Vashah said. “You came very near to dying after killing that elf.”

  “Tairu,” Jovanna said, the battle a blur and her memory fractured. “How did I get here?”

  “King Garrick had his physicians rescue you off the battlefield before they marched to Oakhaven. There was nothing they could do for you. You were beyond the healing of any but the oldest of us.”

  “Us?” Jovanna asked, confused.

  “Wizards,” Vashah said. “You are a wizard. A true wizard. Not like those who play at it in Palindrom.”

  Jovanna remembered that place. Cignus had taken her in and taught her. He never understood her, though. Never understood that she was different.

  “Why am I here?”

  Vashah smiled. “I’m going to train you.”

  —

  As the weeks passed, Aramis regained more of his strength and things slowly became more stable around the castle. Servants got back into their routines and the castle quickly became a swirl of politics and business as usual. Eventually, most of the people found it difficult to imagine life had been any different the past few months.

  Most of the nobles loyal to Aramis’s father had been killed, replaced with younger men whose character was akin to Adamar’s. After the coronation—a small ceremony with only a few in attendance—Aramis’s first act as king was to remove anyone Adamar had put in power. They were given the choice to leave the kingdom or be locked in the dungeon. Most of them had accepted the first option.

  Aramis also issued a decree that all the towns and villages that had been burned and attacked by Adamar’s men were to be immediately rebuilt, with everything to be funded by the royal treasury. As the word spread, the people who had fled their homes slowly returned. Crops were replanted, barns rebuilt, and livestock tracked down.

  There was still so much to do, Aramis knew, but the first steps were the hardest. He and Hannah were married after the coronation, and since they didn’t have the time to get away from their duties, Aramis promised Hannah a lavish honeymoon once things in the kingdom were back in order. How long it would take, he didn’t know.

  Mel, acting as the Chamberlain until Aramis could find someone to appoint, began a spiritual journey to find a new god to serve. Aramis thought he was a fool, but he kept that to himself.

  Each day brought new troubles, but also things to be thankful for. The scars of Mordum’s war would probably never be fully healed, but only time would tell.

  Aramis looked forward to a bright and hopeful future.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Richard Fierce lives in Georgia with his wife and three step-daughters. He is the author of several novels including The Restored King. Feel free to contact the author.

  www.richardfierce.com

  Email: Richard.Fierce@yahoo.com