Garren jumped from the Dragee before it had come to a full stop and scrambled to her side. The men who'd ridden with him seized Aiden.
The sword had entered just below her collarbone on her left side. His aim had been for her heart, but he'd missed.
She met his gaze, her face wild with fear as she gasped for breath. He wanted so desperately to tell her that he wasn't going to harm her, but it would prove fatal for them both, considering their audience.
"Have I not done as you've requested, my Lord?" Aiden hissed. "Is it not your will for this Adorian to die? Or do you perhaps wish for her to live?"
Garren wanted nothing more than to end Aiden's existence right then. "It's not my will that's important, but that of the Laionai. This Adorian has knowledge that we may use."
The girl didn't have enough energy to say anything, but managed to grip his sleeve with one hand. He could feel Aiden's men's eyes on him and he brushed her hand away with coldness that made his insides shudder.
Aiden had nothing more to say on the matter, though Garren suspected it had more to do with his being restrained. Garren motioned for the men to take Aiden back to the city. "Keep him in his chambers until I say otherwise."
Garren removed his cloak and pulled off the long-sleeved shirt he wore. He held it ready as he pulled the sword free. Her eyes, hurt and angry, met his one last time before she lost consciousness due to the pain. He tied the shirt around her chest and over her shoulder to stop the bleeding. He clenched his teeth as he saw the reason for Aiden's first blow to her ankles. If she recovered from her more serious wounds, she'd never be able to walk again.
He pulled her into his arms and stood, numb and unsure of his next move. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see that a few of the men had stayed.
"I'll hand her to you once you're mounted."
Garren put his cloak back on and then hoisted himself up onto his Dragee and steadied himself in the saddle. Once he was ready, he leaned over as the soldier handed her to him.
He held her with her legs across the saddle, her head against his chest. He could feel her heart beating against him, though it was weak. Her eyes were still closed, but she'd regained an ounce of awareness and struggled against him as they made their way back to Eidolon.
He felt his face heat up as they neared the city gates. He hadn't the slightest idea what to do. Anything he could think of would get them both killed. As they came to the castle, the same unfamiliar soldier who'd helped him before again approached him.
"My Lord, I assume you're taking her to the dungeons below the keep?"
Garren nodded. He'd almost forgotten those particular cells were in existence. They were the least used in Eidolon and the last place anyone would think to look for them. "I didn't catch your name."
"Malachai, my Lord. It's as good a name as any other." The soldier smiled as he turned his Dragee and disappeared into the crowd.
It took him a moment to realize what had just occurred. He knew his men were loyal, but to the point of disobeying the Laionai? And why hadn't he recognized those particular few? He looked down at her again. Her face, once blushed with color, had paled to a lifeless pallor. Fear clutched at his heart as he felt for a pulse. He breathed a little easier as he found it, but it was weak and unsteady.
There were already several others in the cell halls as he came down the stairwell with her. One of the larger guards reached over to take her from him.
He held her firm in his arms, refusing to loosen his grip. "You should be off to more important things. This one poses little threat of escaping."
The guard laughed, his voice coming out rough and coarse from years of pipe and ale. "I suppose she wouldn't be, my Lord. Much of a threat, I mean. Kind to the eyes though, this one is. I haven't seen one quite this young down here in a while."
"The Laionai wish to have an audience with her at dawn, if she's awake. I expect her to be left alone to regain whatever strength she may still have. I need her at her wits if she's to answer our questions."
"Certainly, my Lord. I'll come back at first light to make sure she is still here." He laughed. "Don't believe she'll be running off though — just like you said, my Lord."
Garren walked into the cell the guard had opened for him. It was cold and wet. There was nothing to lay her down on and he cringed as she sank into the layer of mud that covered the ground. He left her there and appeared to walk around the corner, but had concealed himself instead and returned to stand in front of the cell. It was a useful ability, though he'd come to find it didn't last very long. It was a little like holding one's breath. He watched as the guard hung his keys and walked through the hall to his chambers.
As soon as the guard was gone, Garren picked up the keys and reentered the cell. Picking her up, he sat with his back against the cold stone. He tore two strips of cloth from his cloak and tied them around her ankles to stay the bleeding, then wrapped what was left of it around her, his own body shivering as the draft hit his bare skin, his chest covered in her blood. Once daylight came, he would be unable to hide his allegiances. The Moriors would hear of it, as Aiden would no doubt get free and summon them, and justice would come swiftly for them both. He sat, weighing the outcome of the path that he was about to take, when Tadraem's words from so long ago rang loud and clear in his ears.
It wasn't Tadraem.
Who could have come to him like that, in the guise of another, knowing years before it would occur that he would find himself here — turning his back on everything he'd ever known?
Could it have been my father?
He questioned then his assumption that Tadraem had been lying to him about his father's betrayal.
Ariana stirred and his thoughts were drawn to her having been in observance. He'd walked the length of the humans' pew — he had to have stood right behind her at some point during the service. She'd been within his reach, and he'd walked right past her. Why was she here? Why was she here alone? She had to be. There was no way Michael would have let her anywhere near Eidolon, with or without escort — unless he was unaware. Then, he found himself hoping that Michael would discover her absence. As sure as it meant his own demise, it was her only hope. He couldn't risk leaving now, not with the attention they'd just brought to the outer courts.
"Michael," she moaned and moved her head, drawing labored breaths. Her bleeding had slowed, but the pain would only intensify as the night wore on.
"Michael will be here soon," he whispered. He touched her cheek with his hand, as he'd done that day in the woods. Had it been such a short time ago?
He stayed awake long into the night, looking at her, hoping that some idea would come to him — something that perhaps he'd overlooked — a way out of all of this. But nothing ever came, and he eventually gave in to sleep.
Sunlight streamed through the small window at the top of the cell. He opened his eyes, forgetting where he was until he heard the loud footsteps of the guard coming down the hallway. Garren laid the girl down, rushed to conceal himself and watched as the guard came into the cell. He leaned down to take her pulse and every muscle in Garren's body tensed as he waited for the guard's response.
The guard lingered for a moment before calling out to his friend, "She's not alive!"
Garren almost lost his composure. The other guard entered the cell and pressed his hand to her neck.
"Yes she is. You couldn't hear it over the rush of hot air in your head!" He stood up and scowled. "Let's go. It's time to eat. I can't be expected to finish my duties on an empty belly."
Garren waited until he was sure they were gone before he bent over her to check for a heartbeat himself, and though it had weakened considerably during the night, it was still there. He kissed her forehead, noticing that her temperature had dropped and she no longer responded to the chill in the air.
He had no choice. He would ready his Dragee and carry her to their borders. He could think of nothing else as a viable option. He tucked his cloak tighter around her a
nd laid her in the driest corner of the cell. There was a small area where the light hit that had warmed it just a bit from the coolness of the rest of the room. He smoothed her hair from her face and whispered, "I will come back for you."
He took the cell keys and raced to his chambers. Once inside, he threw on a new shirt and cloak and filled a small satchel with minor supplies. He opened the doors to his wardrobe and pulled a shield and breastplate from inside. Laying the shield aside, he pulled the breastplate over his shirt, refastening his cloak when he'd finished. He traded his riding boots for a heavier pair, fastened his vambraces and greaves on his forearms and shins. It hit him then that he would be forced to fight his own men if things went badly. He'd grown fond of many of them, oddly more so over the last two weeks. Not that he had been entirely uninterested before, but he had never paid them much attention. Now, he realized all too late they meant more to him than whatever skill they brought to the battlefield.
He grabbed his satchel and headed down the hall. Whenever he heard someone approaching, he concealed himself until they'd passed. Once he'd reached the solitude of the stables, he saw the Dragee were restless. Perhaps they'd sensed something was coming. He felt it too and hoped it was Michael. It would take them nearly a day to reach Eidolon. Garren had reached Adorian borders much faster on the back of a Dragee, but a regular horse was far too slow. The only way for Michael to reach Eidolon faster would be to fly, though he'd never seen Adorians make such a long journey airborne and thus assumed they couldn't.
"Ride swiftly, Michael," he whispered. He thought his words had gone unheard until he felt a sword upon him.
The blade did minor damage when it hit, but only because it struck his breastplate, which was concealed beneath his cloak. He spun on his heels to find Tadraem facing him.
"And to think I once believed you were so different from Seth, incapable of his treasonous ways."
"Treason? What right have you to claim treason when it's you who have been plotting against me? You, who claim to be my mentor and friend — I trusted you once."
Tadraem sneered, "Ah, trust, another of your father's errors, though not his gravest. Not by a long shot. I had such plans for you, Garren. You don't know what I have done for you, how I stood behind you even while the Laionai wanted to strip you of your power. How I spared you the dark truths of your past."
"How you've spared me? Spared me what? The only darkness in my past is how you killed my father, how you betrayed him just as you betray me now."
Tadraem shook his head. "No, Garren, Seth wasn't my friend. He was many things, but never my friend. And you're wrong about the darkness of your past — I'd hoped for years that it wouldn't matter. The moment I heard you utter Adorian, I knew you'd inherited more than your mother's blood. You've inherited her sickness as well; those vile, wretched traits they call mercy and goodness."
Garren's head spun as he struggled to find his bearings. "My mother… was Adorian?"
Tadraem shrugged. "Don't act so shocked. I know who you harbored at your breast through the night, who you've given up your title for — your life, once the Laionai are told."
Garren tried to summon his powers, anything, but found himself completely bereft.
"The Laionai giveth, and the Laionai taketh away." Tadraem sauntered over to a partial wall, laughing. "You are insignificant in their plans now, expendable. You could have been the Oni and there was a time that we thought you — "
Micah didn't even have to mind his steps; Tadraem was far too involved in his own self-righteousness to hear him. The boy swung fast and hard, the sword held in both hands, its height nearly twice his. The blade came against the soft flesh of Tadraem's neck, the force alone causing the boy to stumble. Tadraem's body fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, headless.
Micah slipped from the wall but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground and grappled with his footing as he lowered himself down the stones to stand.
Garren was too consumed by the echo of Tadraem's revelation in his ears to respond.
"My Lord?"
Garren forced himself to look up but still couldn't speak.
"Forgive me, I thought it was the only way." Micah's eyes grew wide in sudden doubt of his actions.
"No, no, I owe you my life. I…"
"I came to find you because Aiden is on his way to the Laionai. I saw him entering the temple."
"Then I don't have long before they release the Moriors." After a moment's pause, Garren shook himself from his disbelief and grabbed his own sword from its holster on the Dragee. He fastened the sheath over his shoulder. "I'm taking her to Michael. I don't know if I'll return." He turned to face the boy. "I doubt that I'll be received well by the Adorians when I arrive. If I live, I will return for you. Keep yourself in the shadows until you either hear of my death or you see me again."
Micah looked at him, eyes wide. "Can I come with you? Michael won't kill you if you're with me, I know it."
Garren shook his head. "I can't risk it, Micah. I need to focus all of my attention on her right now. If I am to watch out for both of you, I may put all of us in harm's way. Do you understand?" Micah seemed to take his word for it, though it didn't please him. "You have to trust me on this. If it's within my power, I will come back for you, I swear it."
Ariana knew she was dreaming, but even in her sleep she couldn't escape the blinding pain that started at her ankles and radiated to a sharp, hot point in her chest.
"Ssh, ssh, sweet one, I'm here."
Strong arms came beneath her and she was hoisted against something warm and solid — something soft. It smelled good. It reminded her of someone.
"Michael is coming for you, he's almost here. Just hold on a little longer."
"Father?" The sound of her own voice sounded strange, far away. So far away.
"Ssh, ssh, stay still, Ari. It's alright." His voice, while soothing to her ears, brought a new kind of terror into her heart because she'd never heard him sound so afraid, so unsure.
"Am I dying?"
For a long moment, the only response she received was a choked sob. She felt his chest tighten and for a moment she thought she heard someone else, someone speaking nearby in a language she didn't understand. It was a beautiful sound, ethereal. But the second voice soon silenced and she could no longer tell if she'd heard it at all.
He kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, "I love you." And everything faded away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHY WOULD I BELIEVE YOU?
Never had Michael been so frustrated by the slow pace of those who accompanied them. This time it was two thousand elite Adorian knights on horseback. He kept his mind quieted, focusing only on the sound of hooves galloping over earth and mire. Only once did he let his mind consider that he might find her already dead, and it seized his chest so that he couldn't breathe. He pushed it from his head; he couldn't consider that as a possibility. It would congest his thoughts and create vulnerability that they couldn't afford.
The scouts had returned with Ariana's horse only a half-hour earlier, bow still in the case attached to the saddle. This only served to heighten Michael's concern for his sister's welfare. Not only was she ignorant of the ways of Eidolon but she was without the weapons he had once condemned.
They were barely at the edges of the woods near Eidolon when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. They'd lost her tracks somewhere around Fools Marsh but had picked them up shortly after. He slowed his horse and turned around. Trotting back to where he'd seen it, he then dismounted and began to scour the ground. As soon as he saw it, he fell to his knees. Several of the men around him stopped.
Roahn was the first to speak. "What?"
Michael reached for a pile of brown cloth on the ground, covered in a dark red stain. It was torn in several places. His hand shook as he brought it closer to him. He put the cloak close to his face and breathed in. It was hers. He held out the fabric, stretching it to the light to see where she
'd been hit.
"It's Ariana's," Jareth said, coming to a stop. He dismounted and stood next to Michael. "If she's been injured, then we're wasting time." He leaned into Michael, whispering. "Michael, this isn't proof of death. If she were killed, she would've been left here. Don't let this cloud your reason."
"Then let us be quick." Michael burst into the air with a quick movement of his wings and was in the saddle of his horse, digging in his heels as they tore off back toward Eidolon.
They'd already discussed positions prior to leaving Adoria. Michael's sole objective, aided immediately by Roahn and two other Braeden, was to find Ariana. Jareth, Caedmon and Kendall led two separate groups of Adorians who were to surround him, clearing the way. Duncan led yet another group of Braeden whose sole purpose was to check all the cells they knew of, entering the tunnels beneath Eidolon from a secret door that Duncan had used in the past. They were all counting on their enemy's lack of preparation. By the time the other Ereubinians were alerted, they'd be well within the city walls.
Duncan and his thirty Braeden headed for the tunnels as Michael gave the order to attack. The Adorian knights took to the skies, leaving their horses in the shelter of the Netherwoods, and crossed the barren field on silent wings. They flew over the high walls of Eidolon with a select group of Adorians assigned to open the southern gate.
Passing through into the human portion of the city, they were met with no opposition as they took to the ground to begin the search for Ariana. They raced through thick crowds of aimless faces. It wasn't until they were past the center wall that they had any use for their drawn swords.
Ereubinian soldiers flooded from the castle. Most were unarmed and scrambled to find weapons. The element of surprise was working well in their favor. Michael's greatest fear though, was not the flesh and blood of Ereubinian lineage, but the Moriors. They would sense Adorian presence before long. The sting of an arrow grazing Michael's forearm caught his attention. He whipped around to see an Ereubinian crossbow aimed at him. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied his bow. The reason Adorians had never even considered crossbows were because they were slow and clumsy. Michael had deftly fired two shots, mortally wounding the soldier, before he'd even loaded his second bolt.
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