Son of Ereubus

by J. S. Chancellor

  “What form of desecration is this?” The hand jerked him backwards, and Garren hit the floor on his side. He looked up to see Tadraem, who’d leaned down to face him. “What blasphemy do you speak?”

  Garren jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. “Have you caught Aiden’s sickness or have you just gone mad?”

  Tadraem looked back at him, shocked. “Garren, you cannot feign that you are unaware of what just came from your own mouth.” Garren looked at him doubtfully, not responding. “You were speaking in Adorian!”

  “No Ereubinian has the ability to form the words! Do you think to make up lies about me as you did my father?”

  Tadraem reached out to push the blade away from where Garren had it pointed at his chest. “Garren, my Lord, I have no reason to be dishonest with you. I speak the truth — Adorian speech just passed your lips.”

  “This is certainly a virgin manner of deception. First Aiden, and now you? Don’t mistake my allegiances.”

  Tadraem started to respond, his hand rising in the air in a show of dispute, when he withdrew it suddenly, cradling it against his chest. He howled in pain, shrinking back from Garren to collapse into a pew a short distance from the altar.

  Garren walked up to him and peered down, watching Tadraem as he shook with pain. He thought then of his father and the demise that Tadraem had arranged for him.

  “Please, my Lord.” Tadraem begged.

  “Surely, you don’t expect me to have pity for you? I believe your words were that you would do the same. So, I suppose you do speak the truth. Don’t cross me or you will regret it.”

  Tadraem’s cries subsided and he sat quietly as he rubbed his hand. Though there was no hint of discomfort any longer, the memory of it would without question last. Garren took one good look at his former mentor before turning to leave the sanctuary, studying the eyes that he’d once held as wise and prudent, the hands that had instructed him. He gazed at the man he’d once revered like a father and found him a stranger.

  Garren entered his chambers with Cadence behind him. Humans were never allowed to live alongside Ereubinians; this would be the only night that she’d be permitted to be in his room. She would be remanded to the other side of the wall for everything except observance.

  He walked over to the window and opened the glass pane. Cold air spilled into the room. He breathed in deeply, his chest having tightened again as he made his way from the sanctuary. He paused there a second before turning around and finding Cadence unclothed, standing wordless in the center of the room. He didn’t say anything to her as he tried to unravel his emotions.

  “I am yours, my Lord. What is it that you wish from me?” Her face was turned toward his, her eyes trained on him, but she was not looking at him. She was looking through him. She was soft on the eyes, flawless in every physical way, yet seeing her so vulnerable made him feel disquieted.

  “I wish for you to clothe yourself.”

  She had a slight hint of displeasure on her face, though it was subtle at best, merely an echo of what she would’ve once been able to express, perhaps. “Have I done something wrong, I do not …”

  He interrupted her. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Do as I ask.” She nodded and redressed. He walked over to the bed and pulled down the sheets. Humans, on their wedding night, slept in the small, unadorned keeping room that accompanied each main chamber. He started to undress himself, tired from the day, when he stopped. He glanced back at his bed, then again at Cadence. The smaller room would be much colder. A picture passed through his mind of how chilled the air had been the first night after the siege, how cold the Adorian girl must have been. He slammed his fist on the wall behind the headboard, having grown tired of seeing such reminders. Cadence jumped as his fist smacked against the bare stone of the wall.

  “I’m sorry.” Garren walked toward her. He almost expected her to shy away from him, but she made no motion. Perhaps it had been instinct. “You will sleep here tonight, I will stay in the outer room.” She gave no response. He watched her move to the bed and lie down, pulling the covers around her neck.

  Garren pushed open the door to the other room. There was indeed a cold draft, as he’d suspected. He shivered a bit and pulled his cloak tighter. There was a simple bed, with a wool blanket and a washstand that supported a large empty basin for water. He approached the bed and picked up the blanket. He hadn’t been in this room in a long time; dust had settled heavily. He should’ve known to ready this room as soon as he’d been told that he would wed. He shook the blanket out and wrapped it around himself as he lay on the mattress.

  He lay awake for some time. Just days ago, he would have disregarded any hint of sympathy for a human, yet here he was, undoubtedly distressed over being unable to be fully a part of this night. He’d waited so long for this — what was the cause of this unrelenting doubt? It infuriated him that Tadraem would make such wild accusations and yet a sliver of fear crept into his consciousness that Tadraem had been telling the truth. He could think of no reason for Tadraem to lie to him. Garren didn’t completely trust him, but it wouldn’t benefit Tadraem for Garren to fall from power. Either Jules or Aiden would be in line now that Tadraem had accepted the lifelong calling of High Priest. Neither of his two probable successors regarded Tadraem with much loyalty, though he’d begun to question Aiden’s loyalties all together.

  It was bewitchment — there was simply no other explanation. The girl was using whatever power had persuaded him to release her to also ensnare his emotions. There was no logical justification for him to care anything about whether an Adorian or a human lived or died. There was no moral reason; Ereubinians were the only ones of true blood. He wished his father were alive. It would be great comfort to be able to speak with him and clear up any misgivings surrounding the last battle.

  He had a fleeting thought of trusting Aiden with what he’d discovered about his father, before it crossed his mind that Aiden wouldn’t be able to reply. He thought of all the times he and Aiden had exchanged jokes.

  Garren finally felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was apprehensive of sleep, the dream from days before still haunting him. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Adorian girl and to have things as they once were. Yet, each time he saw her, he was overwhelmed with the same sentiment that held him captive in the woods. He couldn’t harm her, he could barely maintain the ability to speak in her presence, let alone relieve himself of her encumbrance from afar.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE FATE OF ALL OTHERS

  “Y

  ou going to be alright to ride?” asked Duncan as he leaned over in his saddle.

  “I’m fine. I wish everyone would stop treating me as if I were made of glass,” Ariana said.

  Duncan laughed. She truly hadn’t changed a bit since the last time he’d seen her. Maybe she looked a little older, like Caelyn, but that spirit — that brilliant, wild spirit of hers that was so much like her father’s — hadn’t changed one bit.

  “You’ll find that Adorian males in general are that way. Try not to take offense, it’s their nature to be a pain in the ass.”

  Ariana grinned. “If you say so.”

  They trotted through the snow, through the gates of the main township. The wind was cold, but it felt good on his skin. He’d been up late the night before, irritated by his argument with Michael. He understood Michael’s reasoning, but Duncan had spent far more time with humans than Michael had. After Michael left him in the hall, he’d returned to the room to discuss the matter with the rest of the group. He sometimes envied the allegiance of Michael’s men, wondering if his own men would have been so bold.

  “You don’t consider yourself an Adorian man?”

  Duncan turned his head to look at her. “Why do you say that?”

  She smiled. “Because you said their nature, not our nature.”

  “I do and I don’t. It depends on the day. I’ve spent so little time in my own realm that at times it feels foreign to me. Beautiful, but strange s
till. I understand how lost you must feel. I’m sorry about Palingard. You must be tired of hearing that, but I grieve with you.”

  Sadness crossed Ariana’s face, and he wondered whether he should’ve brought it up at all. “Maybe we should find another subject to — ”

  “No, you’re really the only person that I care to talk with about it. You knew Palingard. There are things that I can speak of all day long to others, yet they can’t relate to any of it, especially the things that are so apart from this place. It’s ironic, I was always seen as the grave serious one back home, and now I find myself almost too light-hearted to belong here. Everything has a coolness in this realm.”

  Duncan remarked, “Adoria has been held to such regimented ideals for so long that she’s lost some of her former spirit. It saddens me, but just look at the evidence of what was. Did you notice all of the paintings and the woven rugs and the sculptures? That was all left for us by our ancestors. You’ve perhaps heard them referred to as the Ancients. They are the Adorians who existed before the fall of man. They decided our role as guardians. If you’d like, I’d planned on riding out to some of the less populated areas today. The place I’m thinking of isn’t far from here.”

  “I’d love to.”

  They rode in silence for a while, passing forests thick with snow and the frozen lake.

  As soon as they’d slowed down, Ariana turned to him with an inquisitive look on her face. “You mentioned the ancients — did they write the scrolls that I’ve heard Bronach speak of?”

  Duncan nodded “Some are letters written to the former monarchs, and others are more expository in nature. That was a big word — are you proud of me?”

  Ariana laughed, as he knew she would. He’d studied human history and warfare in school. Very little time had been spent on grammar lessons, though he still felt as though he could hold his own with any Adorian. “Why do you think Father never told me of Adoria or its history?”

  Her question shouldn’t have surprised him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of it many times himself; he had just never considered how she might feel about it. He didn’t know what to say, there was no clear answer. He shook his head.

  “I’m genuinely unsure. I know his intentions were always for your good, so you needn’t worry about that. You’re all he talked about when we were away. Not that Michael is the jealous type, but I think it might hurt his feelings if he really knew how much your father adored you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and he briefly paused, unsure of whether he should continue.

  “Please, tell me more about him.”

  “Though he was Braeden, his soul was true Adorian. He was bound to the same principles as your brother. The word ‘compromise’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary. If it needed to be done, it would be done, no question. The only time I saw him outside of his character was when your mother died. Your father never let go of the fact that he wasn’t there.”

  Duncan cleared his throat. He’d been more wracked with emotion in the few weeks surrounding Palingard’s fall than he’d been in his whole adult life. He really didn’t know how to deal with it.

  Duncan’s mind wandered. The last time Duncan and Gabriel had spoken, it had concerned Ariana. They’d returned to Adoria mainly for the Braeden to assemble. Anxiety had deepened for several of the smaller villages in the outer regions.

  Duncan had been in the pub, which was the only place in Adoria that even remotely resembled Middengard. Gabriel had sat down in the booth across from him. His eyes looked tired.

  “Of all the places in Adoria, how did I know you’d be here?” Gabriel had motioned for the barmaid, who approached their table carrying a pitcher of ale. She refilled Duncan’s mug.

  “I’ll bring you a mug, dear, just one moment,” she had said to Gabriel.

  He had grabbed her on the arm as she turned from him. “Thank you, but I’d prefer kestath juice instead.”

  She had nodded, smiling a little before turning to fetch it for him, probably because Gabriel had been the only person to order the nonalcoholic beverage in awhile. Duncan, personally, hated the stuff. It stunk like old leather and tasted even worse.

  “You knew I’d be here because it’s the second stop I make every time I come into this realm. Call me homesick,” Duncan had said.

  Gabriel had just laughed. He had a deep baritone voice, its timbre almost a purr. “As am I, my friend. As am I.” He had looked down and begun to fiddle with a stick that he’d pulled from his pocket. It was twisted in such a way that it had appeared to be some sort of animal. Duncan had been able to make out four crude legs made from bent pieces peeled from the body of the twig.

  “Should I ask?”

  A smile had spread across Gabriel’s face. “It’s a dog. At least, I assume it’s a dog. It was left for me with a note on my shield before I left Palingard. It’s just about the only time I see the little girl in her anymore. She’s so solemn these days, her behavior far more mature than her age dictates. Not that I blame her. She’s been through more in this lifetime than many who are thrice her age. But it’s nice to see her laugh now and then.”

  Duncan had understood perfectly what he meant by this. Ariana had been nothing like the human girls. She had perceived things the other children were too busy or frivolous to notice. “Perhaps it’s time to tell her. She’s only as her Adorian nature dictates.”

  Gabriel had shaken his head. There always had been a seriousness that radiated from him whenever this subject was brought up, but Duncan couldn’t help himself.

  “I know that I ask much from all of you to keep this unavowed, but I’ve never needed your help more. Her existence cannot be made known. Trust that I have more dire reasons than I can express — please.”

  “You know that none of us would do anything to betray you.”

  “Even if it meant holding a pledge beyond my death?”

  Duncan had been taken aback. “Certainly. But what talk is this?”

  “Simply talk of what will come to pass. This is a reality for all of us; I am not excluded.” Gabriel said. “Eidolon grows in power each day, with every stronghold they overcome. Middengard is vanishing before our eyes. We may no longer count on our victories as our ancestors once could.” Taking the twig from the table, Gabriel had tucked it with care into the inside flap of his cloak.

  “True, but you’ve never spoken like this before. What’s brought about this change of heart?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a change of heart, Duncan. I’ve always carried these sentiments, but my dreams have been dark of late. My heart is heavy for the future. I see my son, my vision in his eyes, and my sweet daughter. It reminds me of the things that I never wanted for them. I envisioned a world without darkness and ruin, as things once were in Middengard.” Gabriel had shifted in his seat, placing his back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Palingard will be the last to fall, but it will fall.”

  Duncan had looked at him, bewildered. “Don’t be so pessimistic, there’s still hope for its survival. As long as there exists one kingdom in the world of man — ”

  “Palingard’s fate is already sealed. Middengard’s enslavement under Ciara has been established irrevocably.”

  “Then what have we been dying for? What purpose can be found in preventing the inevitable? If we don’t have faith the Laionai can be overthrown, we’re more than wasting our time — we’re sacrificing all of Adoria. Braeden or citizen, it makes no difference. Every Adorian has been touched by loss in some way due to this guardianship. Are you telling me all of that is for naught?”

  Gabriel said nothing for what felt like an eternity. “The spell separating our realm from Middengard is powerful, but it isn’t eternal. Once Ciara has spread her sickness unto all of man, Adoria will not be far from her path. I’ve told you on more than one occasion that I believe her intent has never been carried in human souls, but in Adorian power. Our realm, carrying the seed of immortality itself, has far more worth to her.” />
  Duncan had scarcely been able to believe what he was hearing. Gabriel had never been so forthright. “You are grave. Whatever ails you, I pray it passes. Have you lost faith entirely?”

  “The very nature of faith is to believe when all else fails — when reason or logic cannot provide proof of hope. It’s easy to leave with nothing left behind. A true test of character is if one is able to willingly leave what means the most to him, his very heart, for the sake of a greater cause. This is the fear that creeps into my thoughts when I set it free from my subconscious. I didn’t come here to burden you — these things are of no consequence to you yet.”

  “You speak in riddle this day, friend.” Duncan had laughed. “Just send me in the right direction with arms, and I’ll serve you well.” He hadn’t known how else to answer.

  Now, Duncan rode in silence as he thought of the irony of their conversation. He never had the chance to mention it again. Gabriel was killed soon after. Any death wrought by Morior hands was a violent, merciless death and he shuddered to think of it.

  Ariana’s gaze was fixed upon the scenery, in deep thought as well.

  “You are thinking about Palingard,” he murmured.

  “Are you not?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  TOURNE ETHLIS

  M

  ichael’s horse was a few lengths ahead of Jareth and Caedmon. He’d roused them early to ride with him. He wished to find out why Garren had been riding alone — it wasn’t like him and it bothered Michael. He sensed dark intents being set into motion. They sped across the field into the woods. Every muscle in his body was tense, his senses trained on his surroundings. He’d given the two Adorians a stern lecture concerning their attentiveness before they’d saddled their horses. If any blood was shed this day, it wasn’t going to be Adorian.