Ashes of Andromeda (The Last Archide Book 3)

by Chad R. Odom

“There are millions of families that could’ve been. There are thousands of Captain Halgren’s in the world. Will you now avenge them all? Or do you think that somehow, death balances out death?

  “Son, they took you and your mother from me. It’s only mortality that was lost. Killing them didn’t bring me back to you. In fact, it drove me farther away.

  “I didn’t need for you to avenge me. I’m home!” Emotion choked Armay’s last sentence. “I’m here, with your mother. The only anguish I feel now is for my son. Revenge was never about justice or balance. Revenge is about you and no one else. Don’t delude yourself. You’re my son, and you’re better than that.”

  Oryan shrank from regret. “I can’t take it back, can I?” he asked rhetorically.

  Armay took his son’s shoulders in his hands. Oryan was reminded of how strong his father was. “I wish that with these hands I could take it from you. If I could, I would spend all eternity in hell and never regret the decision… but I can’t.

  “Have hope. There are others in your life who can and will bear this burden with you. Some yet to come and some you already know.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  Armay smiled and softly laughed with Oryan. “Oryan Jeckstadt, son of Armay, leader of the Kentaurus Knights and Warlord of Navarus asking me for direction? No father ever had a better son.”

  “I have so many questions.”

  “I don’t have all of your answers, just as my father didn’t have them for me. You’ll find them, just as I did,” Armay looked at Kathrine who was standing with her back to them between the pillars of the stone courtyard.

  Armay silently nodded his head and then walked toward the courtyard where Kathrine remained unmoved. Oryan stayed for a few moments, pondering the words of his father before he followed.

  Armay took a seat on a bench in the center of the courtyard and faced his wife and son. “Didn’t I tell you, Kathrine? He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

  “Armay,” she interjected, “he’s far too old for all that. However, he is the most handsome man I’ve ever known.”

  “I’m so easily replaced,” Armay said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Oryan allowed himself a small smile at the levity between the two. It was as if their love, so simple and so pure, had made him forget his pain and once again be their son. He was part of a family. That family was small and broken, but they wanted him with them, despite his own feelings of unworthiness.

  “There, you’re beginning to see,” she whispered.

  “See what?” he asked.

  “See yourself like we see you,” Armay replied.

  Kathrine walked Oryan to the bench and sat him down beside his father, taking his hand.

  “Where do I go from here?” he asked his father.

  “No one can tell you that, son, and even if they could, would you really want to know? If you knew your end from your beginning, what joy would there be in the journey?”

  Oryan turned his gaze to Kathrine. She was elegant in her white gown with gold accents. Regal, she was, and he felt humbled to be called her son. He said nothing aloud, but his thoughts strayed to Celeste. Where was she? Was she all right?

  She was what he had lost. Through his own choices, he had driven her far away. It seemed so long ago.

  “Oryan,” Armay paused, “you’re my son, and there’s more to you than medals and titles.”

  Kathrine spoke softly, her voice commanding his attention. “You know who you should be. Find the strength to live up to your potential.”

  “I miss you,” he said at last. “There’s so much that would be different were you alive.”

  There was again a long silence. There was time. Oryan could change things. How, he did not know, but if he hurried back, there was still time.

  His world had changed. There was no more courtyard around him. He could not distinguish ground from sky as all things had gone black. The bench he and his parents had been sitting on was gone, and he stood alone.

  “I have to go back!” he shouted to the void. “I have to go back now, but I’ll see you again. I will see you again.”

  Captivity and Freedom

  For the second time in his life, Oryan woke up in a sterile white room. The soft beeps of monitoring machines and the hum of electronic devices slowly pulled him from his slumber. Muscles he forgot he had, ached. The pinch of treated wounds on his hip, back, shoulder and side, made any movement cautious.

  The vision of his mother and father had been hard to bear, but he already missed them, especially the mother he had never known. Now, he was faced once again with reality. Whoever had him wouldn’t see him as the little boy who’d lost his way. He was the Warlord of Navarus, and that could be either very good or very bad.

  Which raised the obvious question: where was he? What he could remember of the battle was scarce. He could not recall where any of his injuries had come from. He remembered the Captain’s treachery and what he had done as a result. Most of all, he remembered the face of his friend. Ethanis Thomas was gone. Oryan closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory.

  Between the shock of his last fight and the peace of seeing his parents, Oryan’s senses were exhausted. It is for exactly this reason that, until now, he did not notice he wasn’t alone.

  “When I heard a rumor that the Captain was dead, I eagerly awaited confirmation,” said a steady voice. “When word reached my ear that the Warlord himself, the most feared man in the world had been captured, I had to come here and see for myself.”

  He did not need to see the person in his room. That voice was unmistakable. Still, Oryan tried to turn his head and make eye contact. His neck groaned on its axis and shot pain from his head to his toes.

  “Good information never stays secret for long, Tamrus. Navarus will come for me,” Oryan replied.

  Tamrus slid a portable desk into Oryan’s field of vision. An attached screen glowed with a recent news article. “You’re dead, my lord. There were witnesses.” The headline read: Vollmar Wins Decisive Victory. Oryan Jeckstadt Killed!

  Tamrus turned the desk back to himself. “There was a funeral held. From what I understand, it was a media circus. Navarro presided over it personally. There’s a monument built to you now in the heart of Obsidian. Quite a memorial for a man who isn’t dead.”

  Oryan closed his eyes again. This could all be fake. He had no clue where he was, how long it had been since Akon, or what had happened since. It really didn’t matter. Lying or not, he wasn’t in any condition to argue. All he could do was ask the obvious.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Seventeen days. You should be just as dead as Navarus reported. Apparently you really are too stubborn to die. Our surgeons were able to repair ninety-nine percent of the tissue damage done to your body.”

  Tamrus watched and listened for a response from Oryan. He knew better than to expect gratitude, but after a few moments of silence, he made the implication anyway.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Why bother?” replied Oryan bitterly. “I’m sure from here you’ll just be putting me in line for trial.”

  Tamrus was confused. “Aside from being a nearly perfect instrument of war, what are you guilty of?”

  “I’ve read your headlines, too. I believe the term most often used when referring to me is ‘war criminal.’ I also believe they hang you if it’s proven.”

  “In that case, I’m having all the best care provided, so you’re in good health when we drop the axe. There’s no sport otherwise. Do you feel better now?”

  Oryan gritted his teeth through the pain and faced the King. Tamrus was a tall man. He was thin and worn from the years and the stress of public service. His eyes were a subtle shade of green. Thin silver hair covered his head and face. On this day, he wore the simplest clothing he could. This man was everything the Emperor was not. He was wise, powerful, and strong…but humble. He wore the crown of leadership very lightly.

  “
However this plays out, I’m still a dead man? How ironic.”

  Tamrus nodded and afforded a small smile. “Aren’t we all? Imagine the parade in the Empire for the soldier who finally manages to end my reign. If he could, he would remove my head, send it to a taxidermist, and mount it above his fireplace for all to see.”

  “In your position you can afford to be a cynic?”

  Tamrus did not speak. He sat for a few moments with a thoughtful look on his face. His eyes spoke volumes, perhaps calculating the last time he knew what it was to be human. “I’ve weighed many lives in the balance. Some a thousand at a time. Others, like yourself, one by one. Some lives were of far lesser strategic value than yours. As a ruler, the question becomes, not how many but which ones. I send hundreds to their deaths to save thousands. Troops for civilians, that’s how you rationalize it.

  “You’re fortunate. You see only victory on the battlefield. I watch families deal with the losses my decisions cause. Inevitably, death breeds death. I do what I can to comfort them, but I spend many sleepless nights knowing I sent their loved ones to that fate.”

  Tamrus aged before Oryan’s eyes. This is what being a leader, especially a leader in times of crisis, does to a man.

  “So why not let me die? ”

  “I said death breeds death. It doesn’t justify it. In the eyes of the world, you’re already dead. I see no reason to add more blood to my hands just to make the headline true.”

  “If you did, if you poisoned me now and let me die, no one would ever know. As you say, I’m already dead.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted me to kill you.”

  “What I want is irrelevant. Think of your position. What if I escape? You have an opportunity to take away the Empire’s most valuable weapon. If you don’t...”

  Tamrus sat still again.

  “If you had the chance to go back, would you? If you somehow managed to escape, would you crawl back to Navarro? Is that really what you want?

  “I know you better than you think, Oryan. I knew the man who raised you. Your father hated the Empire and everything it stands for. If there is even a spark of him in you, I don’t think you’re capable of returning to that which you know to be evil.”

  The King’s words resonated. Once again, he was absolutely right. He had resented his service in the Empire from the start but said nothing because he felt he had no choice. Now, with his world crashing down, the only thing that mattered was finding her again. Seeing her, even if it was the last time, so he could die knowing she was still out there.

  “You say you knew him,” Oryan continued the conversation.

  “I knew him through your mother. Kathrine and I were friends for years before the Empire took her. I knew what Armay accomplished as a leader, but I knew him better because of the way she talked about him. What a man.”

  “Did you know he’s dead?”

  Tamrus took the news in silence. Oryan thought he caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes. “What is the world worth when good men die unnoticed?”

  Oryan turned his head away. The pain in his neck lanced outward again, but he gave it no notice. The past few days had been full of self-analysis and self-realization. He was one man. He was a small piece of a larger puzzle; nonetheless, he had made a lasting impression. What was the world worth? It was worth what he made it worth, and he had made it very cheap.

  “One day, I’ll answer for my actions,” began Tamrus. “I pray that in that day, I’ll be counted worthy to stand in the company of great men like your father. If I’ve earned that, I’ll have accomplished something indeed.”

  “What happens now?” asked Oryan.

  “That depends on you. I’m going to take a risk on you, son of Armay. What happens next is entirely dependent on what level of risk you’re willing to take on me.

  “If you had the chance to go anywhere or do anything, what would it be?”

  Oryan knew instantly. He would go to Celeste. Nothing else mattered to him. She was the reason there was breath in his lungs and blood pumping through his heart. He opened his mouth to say her name, but remembered where he was and stopped.

  “Are you willing to take a risk, Oryan?” Tamrus asked, wisely noting his expression.

  Oryan looked at the old man, trying to see any sign of falseness or ulterior motive in his eyes. He could see none, but he still wasn’t sure. He had guarded even the mention of Celeste’s name for a long time. Closing his eyes, he was flooded with images of her—the short time they’d spent together and even her voice the day Kovac told him about his father. His heart rate slowed, and a smile came to his face almost involuntarily.

  “Celeste,” he said. “I would find Celeste.”

  Tamrus typed something on the desk and turned it back to Oryan. There was her picture, but not from an article or headline. It was a dossier of sorts, listing her name, date of birth, and other pieces of information. Oryan tried to read it as quickly as possible. Why did Tamrus have so much on her? Was she in trouble? Had he just given Tamrus exactly what he wanted?

  “Elesya Celeste?” Tamrus asked.

  Oryan ignored the question until the screen went black. “That’s her, isn’t it?” Tamrus rephrased the question. Oryan didn’t acknowledge but knew his reaction had given it away.

  Tamrus went to the guards and doctors standing close to the door. The conversation was hushed, but Oryan could tell there was some disagreement. What had he done? His heart raced again as he considered the terrible possibilities they could be discussing.

  He was about to scream in protest when the guards and doctors disappeared from sight. Tamrus quietly shut the door and looked above his head to the camera in the corner. He reached to it and pulled a cable from the back before sitting next to Oryan again.

  “What do you want with her?” Oryan growled.

  Tamrus held up a hand. “I told you, Oryan. You would be taking a risk on me, and I’m glad you did. Those guards out there don’t trust you. They think, even in your present state, you’ll try and kill me if they left.”

  “Maybe they’re smarter than you are.”

  “Oryan.” Tamrus gave him a look that was firm but almost tender. It reminded Oryan so much of Armay that he held quiet. “I knew she was your answer before I asked the question. I only wanted to see if you would be honest with me. You have no reason to trust me and yet you did. Honesty seems like a simple thing, but it means everything to an old man like me.

  “I’m going to take another risk on you. I’m going to let you go.”

  Oryan’s red hot anger ran cold. “What?” he asked quietly.

  “The file you saw was a hacked Imperial one. It stands to reason they would be interested in her after the hotel, but their interest didn’t stop there. Someone in a high place had kept very close tabs on her.”

  Oryan thought about the call in the barracks from her on Kovac’s personal line.

  “The file was highly encrypted. We were only able to get bits and pieces, but there’s no doubt she’s a person of interest to someone. What we can tell is that she was followed and made a mark for the Paladin.”

  Oryan’s heart sank. If that was true, it meant death may be the least of her concerns.

  “How long ago?” Oryan asked.

  “Almost a year,” Tamrus replied flatly.

  Oryan closed his eyes. The beautiful images of Celeste were replaced by thoughts of her screaming in pain. His imagination ran wild, forcing tears behind his eyelids.

  “We don’t know what happened to her, but we do know the pattern they follow. We’ve seen other people with similar records who have simply vanished. Celeste’s file seems to be the same way.

  “I know this isn’t the kind of news you want to hear, but I will give you some comfort. If their pattern holds, she’s not dead. Or, at least, she wasn’t when her file stopped. The marks who disappear like this aren’t the ones they kill. They’re the ones they hide.”

  Tamrus tapped the desk again and slid it back
to Oryan. A map of Navarus displayed with red dots in a few places. “These are the locations we believe they have FLC’s. I’m sorry, Forced Labor Camps. You know them as Slave Quarters. Paladin marks like her, wind up in FLC’s.”

  “Which one?” Oryan stammered. His heart was in his throat. He could only imagine what the Quarter would be like for a beautiful woman like her. “Which one is she in?”

  Tamrus shook his head. “We don’t know. We don’t even know that’s where she is. We just know the pattern. I wish I had more for you.

  “If you love her even a fraction of the way your father loved Kathrine, you’ll find her. That’s why I was willing to take a risk on you, Oryan.

  “The Empire must fall. Not because of me, but because of your father and you and now her. I’m letting you go because you need to be reminded of what the Empire is and because she needs you.

  “I can’t save her, but I can spare you. If you can save her, then generations may yet be saved.”

  Tamrus became regal. The years and care washed away. Instead of age and stress, Oryan could see wisdom and light. Tamrus looked kindly on him like a father to a son.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Oryan whispered.

  “I’m not doing you a favor.” Tamrus’s face lit up in a smile. “I can’t just let you walk out the front door. You’ll be moved from here by a secure transport under military guard. When the time is right, you’ll have an opening. You’ll have to find your own way back to Navarus from there.”

  “You’ll have to hunt me again,” Oryan concluded.

  Tamrus nodded. “Unofficially, of course. If you do get off my shores and back there alive, finding her will be next to impossible. I’ll give you what I have on possible locations for the FLC’s in the Empire, but all we have are guesses.”

  Tamrus stood up tall. He straightened his clothing and took Oryan’s hand. “Good luck, Oryan. Save her, then let her save you.”

  Respite

  Celeste woke up feeling more refreshed and renewed than she had in years. The last thing she remembered was pain and shouting. Before that, it had been almost a year of dirt and grit in that hellhole. But, with how she was feeling now, that all seemed like it had been someone else. Those horrible things couldn’t have actually happened to her.