Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4)

by Jaye L. Knight

  His father continued. “Final preparations must be made. I want you to go down to the prison camp near Fort Rivor and choose some of the strongest prisoners to bring back for participation in the games.”

  Heated resistance flushed through Daniel’s body. He’d compromise and work with his father on some things but never something like this. He shook his head. “No.”

  Their eyes locked.

  “Why not?”

  “I won’t choose people to die in the arena. I want no part of it.”

  His father’s expression hardened. “They’re criminals. What difference does it make if they die in the arena or at the execution block?”

  “I won’t do it.”

  Suspicion returned to his father’s eyes, though much more pronounced. “They deserve to die for their treason.”

  Daniel swallowed hard and sat up straighter, leaning toward his father. “Well, I don’t believe it’s right.”

  Their gazes held for a charged moment, and then his father slapped his papers down on the short table between them. “Come with me.”

  He pushed up from his seat with a glare that dared Daniel not to follow. Daniel sat for a moment, all the old rebellion holding him in place, but finally he complied. His father stormed out of the room. Daniel followed, stormy emotions brewing inside of him.

  “Where are we going?” he demanded, but his father wouldn’t answer.

  They strode through the palace, their angry footsteps echoing in the halls and sending the servants backing away quickly. Exiting the rear entrance of the palace, they headed in a direct line across the courtyard . . . straight toward the temple. Daniel stopped, and his father turned on him the moment his footsteps ceased.

  Daniel threw out his hands. “What is this? Are you really going to drag me inside and test my loyalty? Your own son?”

  His father stepped closer, and they squared off, just like they had so many times in the past.

  “Your behavior has been questionable as of late, and I aim to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Oh, so I start acting more responsible and that makes me a traitor?”

  “It’s your apparent sympathy for traitors that has called your loyalty into question. Now get inside that temple and prove to me those sympathies haven’t turned you into a rebel.” His father’s voice lowered dangerously. “Unless you refuse.”

  Daniel glared back at him before his gaze slid to the temple. This was it. Now the truth would come out. He stepped around his father and marched determinedly toward the temple. Cool shadows swallowed him as he passed through the doors and headed straight into the belly of the cavernous structure. The hazy red glow of candles drew him right to the golden figures upraised on their altar to tower over all who entered. He planted his fists on his hips and glared at them in defiance before turning to his father, who followed just behind him.

  “Well, I’m here.”

  His father scorched him with that daring look again. “Now bow and prove your devotion.”

  Daniel couldn’t contain a scoff. “They’re idols. They can’t even see or hear me.”

  “They are your gods.” His father’s voice thundered against the walls.

  “No, they’re not . . . I believe in Elôm.”

  There, it was done. No more hiding. No more pretending. He might die for it, but he wouldn’t tiptoe around it anymore.

  His father’s eyes bulged, but Daniel wasn’t finished.

  “Furthermore, these rumors you’re so quick to dismiss are true. Elon has risen from the dead. Three days after you put that dagger in His chest, I saw Him. I stood before Him and spoke to Him.”

  His father looked ready to explode. “You’re lying!”

  “You think I would bet my entire life on a lie?”

  “I killed him. I—”

  “Yes, you did,” Daniel cut in. “It’s something I will never forget. He did die that day, but then He rose from the dead as Savior of Ilyon, and He will forever have my allegiance.”

  He let a long sigh seep out as his anger faded to a quiet determination. “Father, please, just listen to me. I’m telling you the truth. Elon is alive, and I did speak with Him. I know you see believers in Elôm as traitors, but we are not your enemies. We’re not a threat to you. The only reason there is fighting is because you are making enemies. You’re taking away liberties, not only from your own people, but from those who should be our allies. Please, stop and think about this. You can continue to worship Aertus and Vilai just as you please—that is entirely your choice—but give us the freedom to choose to worship our God. People don’t have to keep dying over this.”

  His father stared intensely at him with an expression Daniel couldn’t interpret. For one incredible moment, hope grew that his father might actually consider what he’d said, until the next words out of his mouth.

  “You’ve been brainwashed.”

  Daniel let his head slump forward with a groan. He wanted to pull his hair out.

  “You’ve let their lies corrupt you! This is exactly why they must be eliminated.”

  Daniel shook his head, grinding his words through clenched teeth. “I’m thinking perfectly clearly. If anyone’s been brainwashed, it’s everyone who believes a few hundred pounds of gold or two balls of rock in the sky are capable of hearing or answering prayers and receiving worship.”

  His father’s amber eyes sparked like molten metal, and he gestured sharply to the entrance of the temple. “Get out!”

  Daniel didn’t wait to be told twice. He strode through the short hall with the growing desire to burn the whole thing to the ground, starting with the idols, just for the satisfaction of watching them melt into a puddle.

  Outside, he slowed, but his father barged out behind him and gripped his arm. “Inside.” He shoved him toward the palace.

  Daniel yanked his arm away. If his father wanted to throw him down in the dungeon or even take him straight to the execution block, he could walk there himself. They entered the palace the same way they’d left. Just inside, they happened across Aric.

  His father snapped his name and motioned to Daniel. “Take him to my office and keep him there until I’m ready to speak to him.” He shot Daniel a furious look. “Use force if necessary.”

  Daniel glared back at his father, tempted to resist just to spite him, but he thought better of it. Instead, he set off for the office without even pausing to see if Aric followed. When he reached it, he shoved the door with enough force that it banged against the wall when it swung open. He sat down hard in the chair near his father’s desk and rubbed his fingers into his forehead. He needed to control his temper, but it was so blasted infuriating that his father wouldn’t listen to an ounce of reason.

  Aric entered the room and closed the door. Daniel breathed deeply in and out and let his anger cool. It took a while, and all that time he figured his father must be deciding his fate. Once calm, he looked up at Aric, who stood in silence.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t try to escape.” Whatever befell him because of this was in Elôm’s hands, as much as his father would insist otherwise. Surely, his father wouldn’t go so far as to execute him. After all, Elon had said He could use Daniel to make a difference. Then again, he supposed that difference could come from his death. But whatever fate Elôm allowed, he was ready to face it.

  Aric tipped his head curiously. “What happened?”

  “I guess you might as well know, since the whole palace will hear by suppertime.” Daniel sat back in his chair. “I’m a believer in Elôm. A traitor.”

  To his surprise, Aric showed almost no reaction at first. When he did react, it came in a slow-growing smile.

  Daniel frowned. “Why does that amuse you?”

  Aric glanced at the door before taking a couple of steps closer and lowering his voice. “Because, my lord, I too am an Elôm-believing traitor.”

  Daniel’s eyes rounded. Aric was a believer? Since when?

  Before he could voice these questions, heavy footsteps ec
hoed outside the door, and Aric hastily returned to his guard position. Daniel still gaped at him a moment and struggled to refocus on his own plight rather than on the stunning revelation that one of his father’s most trusted men had been living under the same pretense as he had. And doing a much better job of it, apparently.

  The door swung open to admit his father, and his mother and Davira followed. Daniel pushed to his feet and shared a look with his mother, whose deep green eyes held a dire solemnity. His gaze then tangled with his sister. If looks could kill, his father wouldn’t even need to execute him. He almost feared she might somehow spit venom at him.

  Tearing his eyes away, Daniel focused on his father. Though he appeared to have calmed, anger still simmered in his taut expression.

  “I hope you’ve had adequate time to consider the foolishness of your actions and are ready to dismiss them as some sort of joke.”

  Daniel crossed his arms. He would do his best not to let his temper take over this time. “It’s no joke to me.”

  His father threw up his hands and turned to Daniel’s mother. “You see?”

  Her face pinched, and he spun around to face Daniel again. “Do you understand what this is? This is treason.” His voice lowered. “I could have you executed. Anyone else would already be in the dungeon. I can still give the order.”

  Daniel drew a fortifying breath. “If you’d go so far as to execute your own son and heir, then it just proves you’ve taken this way too far.”

  His father’s fist balled as he glared at him, but behind the anger, Daniel caught a glimpse of something else—a tortured indecision. Maybe his father really did care what happened to him.

  His mother stepped in and rested her hand gently on his father’s arm. She spoke quietly as if only for him to hear, but Daniel still caught her words.

  “Just give him time to see the error of his ways.”

  Well, that would never happen, but, considering his life was on the line, Daniel wouldn’t argue.

  His father breathed hard, angry breaths as the indecision still warred on his face. Before he could respond, Davira cut in with words like poison.

  “What will happen if word gets out that you spared him? All the other traitors just like him will feel that they’ve won a victory.”

  Daniel glared at his sister. Did she really want him dead so badly?

  Their father glanced at her, but when his eyes refocused on Daniel, much of the tortured uncertainty had subsided. “You will be confined to the palace grounds until you get some sense back into your head.” He turned to Aric. “Let all the guards know he is not allowed beyond the wall under any circumstances, by my order. And if anyone leaks any of this to the outside population, they are to be arrested and executed.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Aric shared an apologetic glance with Daniel.

  However, Daniel’s attention snapped back to his father, who said, “I don’t care how long or what it takes, I will not allow you to continue down this path.”

  The almost desperate way in which he said it led Daniel to wonder if, in some twisted way, there was love behind it. Miss Altair had said she thought his father loved him. He hadn’t believed it, but if it weren’t true, why wasn’t he on his way to the dungeon right now? Something deep down must be staying his father’s hand.

  But then the more familiar hardness returned to his father’s face. “Now tell me who convinced you to believe such rubbish.”

  “I did tell you. Elon.”

  His father shook his head in a stubborn refusal to believe Elon had risen from the dead. “I know you must have talked with someone. Who was it?”

  Daniel sighed and rubbed his forehead. This would give him a headache yet. “Even if I did talk to someone, there’s no way in Ilyon that I would give them up, so you might as well quit trying.”

  “One way or another, I will find out,” his father promised. “And until you come to your senses, you will not leave this palace.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be a prisoner here for the rest of my life.” With that, Daniel turned for the door. He hesitated just a little to see if his father would order him back into the office, but he didn’t. Relieved, Daniel headed for his room. Just before he reached his door, his mother called to him. He slowed and waited for her to catch up.

  “Daniel, I know you’re angry right now, but you must let your father see your repentance over this. Let him see it as a temporary transgression.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m not repentant. This is what I believe, and I won’t apologize for it.”

  His mother grabbed his arm to stop him. “Then pretend,” she said with surprising force. “I’m doing everything I can to keep you alive.”

  Daniel released a heavy sigh and rested his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t do that. My faith is what it is, and if it gets me killed, then that’s the will of Elôm. He can just as easily keep me alive and doesn’t need me to cover up my faith to do it. I accept whatever He chooses for me. Besides, do you really believe Father would execute me? He has no other heir.”

  “I don’t believe he has any intention to, but I’m not completely certain he can’t be persuaded to change his mind.”

  “By Davira?”

  “Her and others who might think that not even you should get away with treason. Just, whatever you do, don’t provoke him. He may do something in a fit of rage that he wouldn’t normally do otherwise.”

  Daniel remained in his room through suppertime and spent the evening hours praying and contemplating. He prayed he hadn’t acted recklessly at any point and made his faith known too soon. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize the plans Elôm had for him.

  Evening bled into nighttime, and his candles burned low. He sensed a quietness about the palace that signaled most had gone to bed. Sometime around midnight, he pushed out of his chair and stepped to his door. He eased it open and peered up and down the hall. Nothing stirred. He grabbed his cloak and left his room, creeping past his parents’ chambers, which set his heart to pounding even more than usual.

  Downstairs, he followed his usual path to the rear door into the courtyard.

  “Are you sure it’s wise to sneak out tonight?”

  Daniel just about jumped right out of his skin at the low voice in the shadows. He spun around as Aric appeared. Daniel breathed out a gusty breath and tried to slow the rib-shattering pounding of his heart. He shook his head, yet his voice came out a bit winded. “How do you know I was sneaking out?”

  Aric looked at him keenly. “Because you’ve been doing it for the last several months.”

  Daniel raised his brows, and Aric said, “Don’t worry, no one else knows.”

  Thank Elôm. No one but Aric could be trusted with this secret.

  “There are people I must see. They need to know what has happened so they can pray for me.”

  Aric regarded him a moment, but then nodded. “Just be very careful.”

  “I will.” Daniel turned for the door but paused to look back at Aric. “How long have you believed?”

  “Quite a few years.”

  “How have you hidden it so long?”

  Aric shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “By doing some things I wish I did not have to . . . or not doing things in hopes of bringing about the greater good.”

  Captain Altair came to Daniel’s mind. Hadn’t he and Aric been good friends? Aric had been right there the day Captain Altair was executed. Daniel grimaced. Would he have been able to stand and watch a friend die?

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I’m sure it’s been difficult.”

  Aric nodded.

  “Thanks for letting me know how you believe. At least I have an ally here now.”

  “Whatever you may need, my lord, I am here to help.”

  Daniel let a smile grow. “We’ll start with that sparring session in the morning.”

  Aric smiled in return and gave a nod before Daniel let himse
lf out of the palace. Though no rain had fallen all day, clouds blanketed the sky, for which he was thankful. Moonlight would only make him easier to spot. With extreme caution, he crossed the courtyard and slipped out through the hidden gate.

  Once within the city, he paused a few times at dark street corners to watch and make sure no one had followed him. He waited extra-long when he reached the corner of Ben’s street. Satisfied that no one had tailed him, he crept to the merchant’s house and up to the door. No light shone through any of the windows. He hesitated to wake them, but Ben had said he was welcome any day, at any hour. Daniel was going to take his word for it.

  He raised his fist and knocked firmly but not so loudly as to raise undue suspicion from any nosy neighbors. After waiting a minute or two, he tried again. In another moment, a dim filtering of light came from under the door and the bolt inside unlocked. The door opened a few inches, and a flickering candle lit up Ben’s sleepy face. His eyes widened to full alertness.

  “Daniel.” He opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  Daniel slipped through the opening, and Ben closed the door behind him. Mira stood just inside, concern knitting her brow. Ben turned, his candle lighting up the little circle around them.

  “Has something happened?” he asked.

  “My father knows I believe in Elôm.”

  The couple’s eyes went wide.

  “Come, let us sit down.” Ben ushered Daniel toward the living room. He lit a few extra candles before joining them at the couches. “The fact that you’re here and not in the dungeon awaiting execution tells me that Elôm is at work in this.”

  With their full attention fixed on him, Daniel shared all that had taken place at the temple and in his father’s office. It truly was a miracle he wasn’t spending the night in one of the cold cells beneath Auréa, bound for torture and execution. Someone like Ben or Mira wouldn’t have even been given the chance to plead their case. He almost felt guilty.

  When he finished, he shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.” He paused, but his heart spilled its inward desire. “Honestly, when I left the palace, deep down I didn’t plan to go back. I just want to get out and go to Landale or somewhere—anywhere but here. But how am I to know if that’s Elôm’s will or if it’s to remain at the palace?”