Son of Erebus gol-1

by J. S. Chansellor

  She looked at him, dumbfounded. "You intend for me to walk to my execution? I think not. If they want me, they'll have to come for me here."

  He exhaled sharply as he leaned down and lifted her with one arm while reaching to free her ankle with the other. As she struggled against him, he placed a finger over her mouth to silence her and motioned toward the thickest underbrush. He let his fingers slide beneath her chin as he whispered, "Go there, and do not move until nightfall. We'll be gone by then. Do you understand me? Do not move until then."

  She nodded, remaining still and wordless as he picked up his sword. As he rose, his eyes met hers again and lingered warmly for a moment before cooling. He tightened his jaw, stunned by his own actions. Without thinking, he shrugged the cloak from his shoulders and shoved it into her hands.

  "Go," he whispered, then turned back and disappeared into the thicket.

  Just before he emerged on the other side, Garren took his sword and slid it quickly across the gap in the armor at his left leg, blood spilling onto the metal and down onto the cuff of his boot. He clenched his teeth, sucking in air as the stinging subsided, and walked into the clearing.

  Tadraem approached with a wry smile on his face, Garren's Dragee cantering beside his own. "My Lord, tell me that you haven't met your match in such a tiny opponent."

  Garren took the reins from him and mounted the Dragee, repositioning his helmet as soon as he was seated. "She paid for it with her life," he growled.

  "No matter, my liege, one less soul will make little difference to our spoils."

  "Let us pray that the Laionai and her most Holy will be pleased," Garren said it just loud enough for Tadraem to hear it. He hoped his old mentor, now his second in command, hadn't detected the hitch in his voice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SAY THE WORDS

  The woods were deep and still. Ariana had watched the color of the sky progress from bright blue to a bruised and bitter color and finally saw the sun sink below the tops of the trees. It felt like hours, but she couldn't be sure how much time had passed since darkness had fallen. She tucked her arms against her chest, her back against the base of a tree. It was ironic how frightened of this place she'd been as a child; now the recesses and alcoves felt somewhat comforting.

  The moon was still a night away from being full, a thin sliver perceptibly missing from its side. It peered back at her from its place in the sky, sending pale rays like silk threads through the forest. Gingerly moving branches aside, her walk back to the village was almost reverent, as if leaving nothing wounded by her presence would somehow save those she had been unable to.

  The place she'd taken for granted for years grew new form. The trampled leaves, twigs, and roots seemed foreign to her, rolling from under the overgrowth and snaking along the forest floor to trip her already unsure footing. She knew better than to imbue inanimate objects with hostility, but her gut recoiled at the mere whisper of a thought related to what had befallen her morning. She went back to cursing the wild, unkempt underbrush.

  Gregor is never going to hear the end of this when I get a hold of him. This should have been clear-cut months ago.

  The absurdity of her thoughts hit her and made her throat dry. A voice murmured in her mind that she would never have the chance to throttle Gregor properly for his negligence.

  There is no sound, nothing, save your own fettered breathing. There is nothing left.

  She almost tripped on it. Absently, she picked up her satchel from where she had thrown it to the ground in dismount and slung it over one shoulder.

  Listen… what do you hear?

  She shook her head against the question. She couldn't let herself think this way, she had no reason to. Then, her internal ramblings halted with her breathing and any threadbare hope she'd held that Palingard had in any way been spared. She crossed over the densest part of the forest to see clearly what she had been hearing, and ignoring, for a few paces…

  The flames danced and licked angrily at the night air, spiraling upwards toward the waxing moon. Any trace of the festival decor was long gone, and scant pillars remained where modest cottages had once speckled the clearing. Those on the outskirts smoldered, while those in the center remained viciously ablaze. There were no survivors; no one picking up the remnants to begin again, no weeping and mourning, no scurrying of animals to find new shelter. Her vision blurred, her eyes glossed over with unshed tears. Her thoughts were as barren as the devastation before her.

  What she could see beyond the destruction was the scene she had once tried so hard to forget, the one she had been clinging to anew with hope. As if on top of what was real and in front of her, she saw Palingard as it was fifteen years past. The village was reeling from the aftermath of the last siege — shouts of pain and grief heard in equal measure.

  Shock turned to anger as she pictured her savior's face again. He'd known. The Ereubinian had not spared her life out of goodness or mercy. This had been a game for him.

  What good are his spoils with no one to suffer for them?

  "Was this what you were waiting for?" She wailed. "To see me fall apart?" Her resolve weakened and the ground rushed to meet her knees. Tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs choked her words of clarity. "Why didn't you come back sooner? Finish us off before we had a chance to recover?" She rested her cheek against the soil as she wept.

  At first she thought she felt his breath, the Ereubinian's — that he had returned to revel in his win — but she realized the very idea that he would have knelt down to lie on the ground beside her was lunacy.

  "Koen," she moaned. Grabbing the dog by his nape, she pulled him to her and buried her face in his matted fur. "You left me, you useless coward."

  Her brief joy was sobered as she fought another round of tears, this one stronger than the first. Keeping one hand on Koen, she lowered her head into the other hand and tried to slow her breathing as her father had once taught her.

  I can't do this now. I can't let this paralyze me. She didn't trust the Ereubinian to keep his unspoken promise of respite. She waited another minute before trying her legs. Once she was secure on her feet, she limped back to the edge of the woods, where she stood for a moment, peering into the darkness of the Netherwoods. A wind whipped through the boughs of the trees above her, bringing a chill to her skin. She moved to pull her cloak tighter to her when she realized whose cloak she wore.

  Ripping it off, she held back a string of curses that would have made a seaman blanch, but couldn't bring herself to drop it to the ground.

  It doesn't matter whose it is, it will still keep me warm.

  She swallowed a healthy measure of disgust before grudgingly wrapping it around her shoulders again. Koen seemed to look at her with approval.

  "I don't want to hear it from you," she sounded ill, but was more than pleased he'd run from the fight. She'd seen nothing but what appeared to be charred carcasses of both man and beast. No doubt Koen wouldn't have made it.

  He looked up at her and sneezed, as was his tradition when she spoke to him as if he had the ability to answer.

  "Not that you would have been able to do much anyhow," she murmured. Though she played a one-sided conversation, her mind was already elsewhere. Father, where are you?

  She'd heard for three years counting that Palingard was the last stronghold and it had been at least nine years or more since they'd stopped trading with the city of Ruiari. Could we really be the last? Her intuition told her that somewhere there had to be smaller camps of those, like herself, who'd managed to evade capture.

  Surely Father is somewhere among them, maybe without sense or memory of where he is from. As much as she avoided others and feigned little interest in what Palingard called society, she now found herself wishing for the world of Sara's parents to be real, for Ruiari to be intact, for anyone to be out there in the darkness other than those who'd taken her life from her.

  She imagined as she trod along that she would find the University still stood, and that maybe
the village leaders in Palingard had been misinformed. They were hard-headed, ill-read and it wouldn't have been entirely out of the question for them to take the words of one mistaken messenger to heart. Had they even bothered to see for themselves? Given the extent of their preparations, they couldn't have. Then she recalled hearing something herself from Sara. It had fallen. She was being ridiculous. Even Jonathan, whose family was as lofty as Sara's in what had once been Ruiari's royal court, had spoken of its fall.

  She traveled for several hours, until the depth of foliage hid the light from the moon. Only when she could no longer see did she stop and take refuge beneath the overhang of what appeared to be a large rock formation. Finally, she was left with no choice but to contend with thoughts of Sara and Bella that she'd previously held back; she surrendered to another bout of tears.

  When she woke the next morning, she found she'd slept so deeply that it took her a minute to gain her bearings.

  "Koen?" What she'd thought to be stone was in the light of day a huge root. Standing, she found that she could observe nothing but the walls of dirt that blocked her view. "Koen!"

  As she climbed to the top of the embankment, she was overcome with awe. Ravines wove their way deep into the ground, dipping from trees whose bases were larger than the home she'd been born in. Moss clung to the winding roots and made their way in strings to the forest floor. The varying hues of green and specks of pale violet flowers left her speechless. The effect was stunning. She had grown so accustomed to the simplicity of her village, the rugged cliffs and barren stretches of land, that a new definition of the word "forest" was beginning to form.

  "Koen!" Still hearing nothing, she shook herself from her stupor and began to tread through the maze around her with staggered progress. Her ankle, still swollen, throbbed.

  She spied her companion a few paces ahead, hopping from one root to the next. "Koen!" He howled in recognition of his name.

  After walking a bit, her stomach overturned her will and forced her to admit she was hungry. She'd argued with herself for some time, insisting she was too shaken to eat and digest anything properly, but in the end, the growling in her gut won.

  Untying the satchel, she pulled from it bread, dried meat and a small bit of cheese. Koen refused when she broke off a piece of the bread for him.

  "Suit yourself, but don't whine later that you're famished. We could have a long journey ahead of us." She took her time eating. Her ankle needed the rest and her mind began to wander.

  Surely the waterfront villages had been stronger than Palingard. She was aware that she was reneging on every point she'd ever made in her arguments with the men in the village when they'd tried to convince her that Palingard was not alone and that there had to be other strongholds farther from Eidolon. That had sounded ridiculous to her at the time. Why would Eidolon have wasted its efforts on a little tract of land like that? Palingard had nothing of value and what they did have they accredited to their damned Adorians.

  She tore off a piece of the dried meat, feeling her hunger more as the spice of it warmed her mouth. Ah, the faithful. Their eyes had been trained on looking for imaginary friends when they should have been wielding weapons. How many times had her father told them to take pride in fighting for themselves and not to believe in such fables? He'd been right, of course. He always was.

  But her parents and a few of her father's closest friends had been a minority in the voice of Palingard. Even Bella and Sara believed in the Adorians. Sara's parents had been students of the University and knew better than to keep their faith in the ways of the past, especially when it had done so little to preserve their world.

  When she finished eating, she and Koen found a stream and filled the small flask with enough water to sustain them for the rest of the day. For the first few hours of their trek, she vented her frustrations to Koen. As it grew later in the day, however, she fell deeper into silence, lost in remembrances of her past.

  Following her mother's death, she'd traveled with her father. They'd gone as far as the sea, to a small province north of Ruiari. She could still remember the smell of the salt in the air and the strength that seemed to radiate from the sailors. Her father had told her they were mostly from the kingdoms in the northern realm of Lycus, his homeland.

  So far from Eidolon — is that where you have gone?

  Exhausted, she slowed her pace and finally stopped to rest against a tree. This would have been much easier with her horse. She'd heard stories of loyal steeds that searched out their masters long after they had been separated by warfare. Not Shadow. He was only good for spooking and stepping on her feet.

  She looked down to see if Koen seemed as worn out as she felt. Just as she turned her head, she saw something entangled in the weeds and ivy that wound around the tree. She lifted her hand to brush aside the foliage, but as she turned, it vanished. Startled, she stepped back, nearly tripping over Koen.

  "Did you see that?" She regained her balance and leaned forward, then, ever so lightly, she touched her fingertips to the leaves. Shimmering like sunlight on the surface of water, bright silver came again into view. Shocked, she pulled a sword free of its prison and held it up, examining the intricate designs etched into the gleaming gold blade. The hilt was what she had first seen, an ornate cast silver with two dragons whose tails curled around the hand grip. It was unlike any weapon she'd ever seen. The men of the village had crude swords forged of metals easily found in the surrounding areas. Even her father's chosen instrument was a weapon of simple design.

  This was a broadsword, nearly half her height and much too heavy for her to actually wield against an attacker, but she couldn't bear to leave it behind. She was also quite conscious of its strange appearance. There was always the chance that she'd imagined it to be hidden and, in her delirium, envisioned that it was revealed at her touch. She couldn't deny its impressiveness. Perhaps she was much closer to civilization than she thought.

  She glanced at Koen long enough to motion him onward. Just a few miles farther, they reached the edge of a city. It was grand — high spires draped with marble carvings rose in the distance, overshadowing smaller yet similarly adorned buildings. The stone was cut in a fashion that gave a sense of great wealth. This was once, if no longer, a flourishing city. What struck her, though, was the lack of movement, the lack of any sound except of creatures scurrying in the woods behind her.

  Had she thought at all that she weren't alone, she wouldn't have gone closer. After a few moments of observation, she was certain. She made her way past the wooden doors and into the city itself, wandering for a bit before pausing to take in the magnificent temple in the center of the city. She opened her mouth to say something to Koen about it, when she realized he wasn't there. Not in the least surprised by his disappearance, she continued on.

  Removing her dagger from where it was strapped to her thigh, she stayed close to the buildings that lined the main throughway. The sword in one hand, useless for anything but intimidation, and her dagger in the other, she thought briefly to herself that her father would eat his words if he could see her now. He abhorred her interest in archery and would have killed Duncan with his bare hands had he known his friend had tutored her not only to shoot with startling accuracy, but to throw hand blades with equal stealth. Surely, her father would have seen the benefit of her having such skills now.

  There was an eerie stillness about everything. As she passed the shops, she noted they were devoid of settled dust, rotted food, or any other signs that there had once been life. She also noted that not only were there no humans or Ereubinians present, there was not one thing living past the wooden doors. Nothing. No bugs, rodents, or animals had found shelter in the city's abandonment.

  Something is wrong, something feels so very unnatural about this place.

  Despite her growing concern, she couldn't stop herself from entering the temple. The closer she came to its enormous doors, the more compelled her feet were to pass through them.

  As so
on as she stepped onto the polished stone, euphoria washed over her. She had to grip a small bench to steady her feet. She looked up into the rafters and the carved wood that trimmed the walls, losing herself as her gaze turned upwards. More than ten stories high, the domed ceiling was painted with a bright mural that depicted a multitude of scenes. There were two dragons in battle; one bright silver, the other an almost iridescent shade of white, surrounded by winged beings that she could only guess were Adorians. Another picture displayed a beautiful woman with dark hair standing behind a sandy-haired man, whispering into his ear. He held a book that glistened gold. Farther over was an image of two lovers embracing, tears streaming down their cheeks. She touched her hair, similar in shade to the tresses in the mural, and sadness swept through her.

  "Your sorrow is without cause, you have much to be thankful for." A little girl's appearance startled Ariana.

  "What?" she murmured. The euphoric feeling strengthened, blending with the grief she felt, making her behave as if drunk.

  The girl drew closer and took her hand. "Come, let me show you."

  Ariana hadn't the will to say no, nor the clear consciousness to question it. She followed until they came to a low pool of dark water, its surface completely still. A perfect reflection of the painted ceiling appeared on the water's surface, the lovers frozen in their woeful stance.

  "Do you believe in dreams?"

  Ariana considered the little girl's question as she peered at the water's surface, feeling her chest tighten as the image changed into her parents' likenesses.

  "You can be with them, Ariana. All that is required of you is to say the words."

  Ariana watched her mother reach out to her. "Mother," she whispered.

  "Say the words and this will all be over, a nightmare from which you will awaken."

  She closed her eyes, her vision starting to spin. Feeling overwhelmed, she knelt down, gripping the side of the well for support. This cannot be real.