Brothers of Blood (Fall of a King Book 2)

by James Fuller

  “I doubt it,” He smiled and began away, but turned back to her for a moment. “You can only be so strong for all of us for so long you know - there is no shame in asking for help.”

  Zada stood and listened to Kilten’s footsteps echo off the stone and sighed. She knew he was right, yet it was so much more complicated than that. She continued her way through the catacombs to the upper rooms, passing the massive, ancient library, smiling to herself as she remembered it was likely the oldest in existence.

  She stopped within the grand underground hall, in front of an old leather suit of armor. Her fingers gently stroked the marred surface of the breastplate as a deluge of nearly forgotten memories flooded back to her. Her hand fell back to her side and a single tear rolled down her cheek, before she continued on her way to the surface archives.

  “Goo… good morning, Lady Zada,” stuttered a blond, grey-eyed man as he looked up from the large tome he was reading, his nervousness bare upon his face and in his voice.

  “Good morning to you as well, Stefan,” She replied to the young druid. “What are you doing here so early?” She asked, though she knew the answer already. Stefan had been in Salvas for half a score of years now, and still he interacted little with any of the others. It was not lack of effort from many of the others around his age. Stefan had simply found comfort in his solitude and it had only increased when he had discovered Salvas’ archives. Stefan spent so much time there that Old Talamos had finally taken him under his wing, as a Keeper of Knowledge. Few had been bestowed that title, and Stefan glowed with it’s honour.

  “I wanted to get an early start on translating this tome, my Lady,” Stefan said, a hint of excitement in his words.

  “I have not seen you training with your Gift of late.” That was an exaggeration, she knew. Stefan’s face flushed as he tried to stutter out a reply, but Zada stopped him with an upheld hand. “I understand the work you do here in important, but so is using what was given to you, Stefan. I would like to see you out from these walls a little more.”

  “Yes, my Lady.” Stefan whispered.

  Zada left the ancient gloom and musty air of the archives. The feeling of the morning sun upon her skin and pure air in her lungs helped revitalize her dampened mood as she made her way towards the Alma-Mater, her hopes high.

  She climbed the spiraled ironwood staircase to the second floor of the academy, where dozens of housing rooms were located. All new arrivals to Salvas stayed within the Alma-Mater until they learned to fully control their Gifts and proved themselves to the other members of Salvas. The process often took many years, depending on the aptitude of the individual.

  Zada paused at the top of the stairs, an overwhelming feeling of bliss and melancholy fighting for their place within her, yet she knew which one would prevail before too long.

  She straightened her back and rounded the corner, her eyes instantly falling onto the plump, older figure patrolling the hallways. “How does he fair?” Lady Zada asked.

  The older woman turned her gaze to Zada and offered a light bow of her head in respect. “My Lady.”

  Zada held up her hand. “Venus, how many times have I told you, you do not have to address me by title when others are not around? We have been friends for far too long for that.”

  Venus grinned. “I know, but within these halls you know not who might wander about.”

  Zada stopped in front of Meath’s door. “So?”

  Venus expression drew grim. “He is not well, nor could we have expected him to be after all he has been through,” She paused, and then Venus whispered the activation phrase and the crystal mirror hanging on the wall lit up, revealing the room beyond. “Look for yourself,” She instructed as she stepped aside.

  Zada looked into the mirror at the motionless figure lying on the bed, eyes open, staring blankly at the roof. “How long has he been like this?”

  “Since he woke, after his fight with Daden.”

  The reminder of what Daden had done darkened Zada’s features. He had gone against her wishes and had lied to Meath, for his own spitefulness. She has almost had him punished, but he had quickly explained the usefulness of his disobedience. As much as it pained her, she could not deny that Daden had done her a favor. If he believed his friends were dead, he would be more likely to accept the path they needed him to take, without fighting them every step of the way.

  “I am so sorry, Meath, I wish it could be different… but it cannot,” Zada whispered. “Keep an eye on him - when he comes around, send someone to me please. He has been through a lot and we must give him time and understanding, even though time is not on our side. I want to be updated on him regularly.”

  “Of course, Zada,” Venus nodded.

  It had been two days and Meath still lay on the bed that he had woken upon after his enraged fight with Daden. He had nearly repeated his last efforts when he had awoken but he promptly succumbed to defeat, both physically and emotionally. He knew there was no way out of here, not unless they wanted him out. Even if there had been another way, he could not stay focused long enough to begin to discover it.

  They are gone, dead - lost to me forever now. What is the point of fighting now? He had nothing to go back to. There was Ursa - his adopted father - but likely even Ursa would shun him now. The only heir to Draco Kingdom was dead, because of him -because she loved him enough to follow him and risked her own life to save his. No, there was no going back - if he went back, he would be punished by death and all Ursa had worked for to liberate the Gifted would likely begin to unravel. He could not allow that to happen.

  Meath pulled himself from the soft bed, his body and mind throbbing through the numbness. He almost wished that he had not woken and that after such an act against Daden, they would have killed him. He walked over to the small window and glanced out - the day was absolutely beautiful, as it had been the last time he had looked.

  A small group of children played near a lightly wooded area, off to the left of the building. He watched them playing and a particular pair caught his attention - a young, scruffy boy and a young, petite girl who were playing several yards away from the rest. They were in their own little world. Meath watched as the boy picked a purple wild flower from a small patch and give it to the girl, who took it, blushed and then ran around the corner of the building. It tore at Meath’s heart - he could remember a time when he was that young, scruffy boy and Nicolette was…

  He shook his head hard, trying to clear the thoughts before his emotions overtook him again. But it was too late - tears welled up in his eyes and he pulled himself from the window. Thinking back to when he had first met Nicolette, so many years ago…

  …they had been just children, it had been the day he first arrived at Draco Castle with Ursa - it had still been rough times for those with the Gift. Mild acceptance of magic-wielders had only taken place a handful of years before and many people were still cruel and wary of them.

  Ursa had sought out King Borrack, to discuss ways that would help ease people’s minds about the Gifted and the many benefits to having those with the Gift around. He wanted to serve the people for the greater good. Meath had been told to go and play in the garden while Ursa and King Borrack discussed such a notion and that is when he saw her for the very first time.

  She had been playing with her dolls, by the pond in the far corner of the garden. He wanted to go and play too. Meath had never had the chance to play with anyone near his own age before. He had only ever known Ursa and the few acquaintances he kept, for they had always been on the move. Scared and shy, Meath had not known how to approach her. He remembered almost every time Ursa had met new people they exchanged gifts of some sort - Meath knew that was what he had to do. He had to have a gift, but what? He did not have anything, so he ran back to where he had left Ursa and the King.

  “I need a gift!” Meath said, grabbing at Ursa’s robe, forgetting all manners and carefully drilled rules.

  Ursa nodded apologetically to the King, who did not
seem to mind. “Might I ask for what?” he asked, his grey eyebrow rising in wonder.

  “There is a girl in the garden, I want to play with her, but I do not have a gift to give to her,” Meath replied. “You always give something to people you first meet.”

  King Borrack chuckled. “Ah, that is my daughter…Princess Nicolette is who you speak of.”

  “I am sorry, your Majesty…” Ursa had started to say.

  “Nonsense, Master Ursa,” King Borrack intervened with a slight wave of his hand. “I know the perfect gift, but you will have to go on a quest to acquire it,” Borrack said, drawing a very excited Meath in.

  “Anything! I can do it!” Meath stammered with growing enthusiasm.

  “I know for a fact her favorite thing in the world is caramel-candied apples,” the King said, winking Ursa’s way. “Now somewhere on the main floor in the castle is the kitchen. Find it - on one of the tables, there should be a tray of them, freshly made this morning.” Meath was about to run off on his quest but the King stopped him, calling him back before he had taken more than a few steps. “But I must warn you of the cook, Maxwell. He is a big, burly man and it is his kitchen… you will have to be sneaky to get one past him. Keep your wits about you and your eyes sharp. If he catches you, he will make you into one of his meat pies,” the King finished, a solemn gaze fixed on Meath. Behind Meath, Ursa was trying to hold in laughter.

  Meath’s eyes went wide with a pang of fear. He looked over his shoulder, back to the garden and pushed the fear back. His back stiffened and he nodded to the King. “I can do it!” With that, Meath took his leave and bolted off into the castle, nearly knocking over a servant girl who was bringing out fresh taze for the King and his guest.

  “I am not so sure that was wise, Highness,” Ursa laughed, watching Meath disappear.

  “It will be good for the boy - besides, he will be fine, it will give him something to do…plus he will need to know his way around if you two are to reside here,” the King said with a welcoming smile…

  Meath was stirred from his memories by the tingling feeling of wet tears tracing down his unshaven cheeks. He took a deep breath and turned back to face the room, his eyes landing on the spot where he knew the magical doorway had to be. He stared hard - he knew, somehow, they were watching him. He gritted his teeth and swallowed back his pride and anger. “I am ready to talk to whoever is in charge,” he called out, then turned back to the window, wondering how long it would be until someone came.

  It was not long before a strange energy rippled through the room, making the hairs on Meath’s neck stand on end - he knew the doorway had reappeared without having to look. It took every ounce of his control to hold his ground and not turn.

  “Greetings, Meath,” a calm female voice said from behind him.

  “Why have you brought me here?” he asked, his tone edged and sharp, yet still he did not turn to look at who had entered.

  “That is a complex question, Meath,” the woman replied, “one that requires difficult and life-altering answers.”

  Meath pushed himself away from the small window with a low growl of resentment and finally turned to face his captor. “Do not think to play coy with me!” His eyes locked on the woman - she was tall and proud, with long, straight, silvering-brown hair which nearly reached the small of her back. His eyes fixed on the radiant green orbs that stared back at him - eyes he could have sworn he had seen before.

  The woman did not appear to be much at first glance - she wore a simple, plain yellow dress that hung perfectly on her slender figure. Meath could sense the power radiating off of her, from her strong straight-backed stance, to the angle at which she held her head up high, to her hands and how they commanded control, to the eyes that spoke of years of command. She was strong, formidable in every sense of the word.

  “Coyness was unintended, only the truth of the matter at hand,” she replied, her gaze never wavering from his.

  “So you are the one who has forced me here against my will and at the expense of my friends and their lives!” Meath's tone was lined with such hate that she almost took a step back.

  The woman took a deep, controlled breath. “Yes, Meath, it was I who sent Daden and Kara out to bring you back with them…at all costs,” she answered, well aware of the dangerous tension.

  “Why?” Meath asked acrimoniously. “Enlighten me so that I may better understand what they died for!” He walked up to her until they stood nearly face to face. “Enlighten me!” he hissed. “Bestow upon me your great reasoning!” Meath mocked, eyes seething with hatred.

  “You have my deepest apologies, Meath - the tragedy that befell your friends….that was…” she paused, gazing down, “…unintended.”

  “Your apologies mean nothing,” he snarled, turning away from her before his anger got the better of him.

  “I understand your grief and anger, Meath, but there is nothing I can do to change that,” Zada replied. “No matter how much I want to. You are here because we need your help with something far greater than any of us.”

  “My help?” Meath nearly laughed out loud as he turned to face her once more. “Are you serious? What makes you think I have any intention of helping you? After all you have done to me? What makes you think I will not kill you the first chance I get?”

  Zada’s eyes flared with anger. “I will forgive such insolence only this once, Meath, and only because I know your pain,” she snapped sternly. “But mark my words… if you ever utter such threats to anyone within Salvas again, you will regret it.”

  “Who are you?” Meath asked coldly, an eerie calm to his voice.

  “My name is Zada. I am the guardian of Salvas.”

  “That is not what I meant,” Meath countered. “Why do I recognize you? Why do you seem so familiar to me?”

  Zada’s expression betrayed surprise at the question. “I do not believe you are ready to hear that part yet. But I promise I will tell you everything when you are.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “It will have to be.”

  “You expect me to just trust you? To believe anything you say? After everything you have done to me? Here I am, locked up like a prisoner, with no idea why I am here or what you want with me, and you expect me to help you?” he stopped, and waved her away with his hand, turning from her again. “You are delusional.”

  Zada sighed - this was not going as she had hoped and knew she was only worsening the situation. He was not ready to hear anything - not yet, not until he had grieved and gained some control over his resentment. “You are right, Meath. None of this has been fair to you, and you truly have been wronged. You are not a prisoner here and to prove that to you, if you promise not to hurt anyone, I will leave the door open for you.”

  Meath’s face twisted in surprise as he searched Zada’s eyes for any sign of deceit.

  “But know, Meath, you cannot leave Salvas - there is a magical boundary that surrounds us. A black line of ash outlines the borders of Salvas - to go beyond would kill you,” she added, voice stern.

  “So instead of a prisoner, I am a dog on a leash,” Meath muttered sarcastically.

  “Only because you see it that way.”

  “I want to know why I am here,” Meath insisted.

  Zada nodded. “I know and you will in a few days. Once you have had time to settle and are ready, I will explain why you were brought here and why we need you… why everyone needs you. Until then, explore all you would like and meet those who call Salvas home. Who knows - maybe you will enjoy it here more than you expect. For the time being, I think it is best if I have someone to accompany you and show you around until you are more familiar with your surroundings.”

  “So the dog gets a master too,” Meath hissed. “Why am I here?” Meath glared hard at her. “You owe me something, damn it!”

  Zada nodded. “Do you want revenge on the person who started all this? The one who is the real reason all this has happened - the real cause of your friends’ deaths?”
<
br />   “Of course I do! Who is it?”

  “You know him as Prince Berrit, though that is simply a magically altered appearance. He is the reason all this is happening, he is the reason you are here.”

  “What does the false prince have to do with me?” Meath asked, his anger faltering only a little.

  “Grieve, Meath… for your friends and for what your life once was. When you are ready, I will tell you everything.” She turned for the door and left, though the door remained.

  Meath stood alone, staring at the doorway - it looked no different than any other door he had ever seen. He had to fight the instinct that hounded him to bolt for the door and fight his way out, if need be. No, he told himself, that is what they would be expecting. He had no idea what to expect outside that door, in this strange place.

  Meath went to the bed and sat down, retrieving the tray of food that had been left for him hours ago on the bedside table. He would wait and not give in to his eagerness or their likely expectations. Slowly, his mind returned to memories while he stared at the door and ate…

  …It had not taken Meath long to find the massive kitchen. It was the largest room in Draco Castle and the smell of delicious food wafted throughout the many hallways, leading him straight to it. He peered around the corner, past the fray of people, and scanned the room until his eyes found what he had quested for. The King had been right. There, on one of the oak tables, was a large tray of freshly dipped, candied apples.

  Meath waited until the moment was right, then slipped into the room and under one of the tables draped with a long, brown tablecloth. He waited for a few seconds, listening to be sure no one had seen him enter the kitchen,, before he examined his next move and scurried across the floor, under another large table. He paused again, waiting for the inevitable cries of discovery, but none came.

  He was right where he wanted to be - the next table held his prize, but now there was a large man standing next to that table, rolling each apple in nut crumbs. Meath knew this was Maxwell - the man the King had warned him about. He needed a distraction, if he was to get one of the apple treats for his gift to the Princess. He scanned his surroundings and noticed a palm sized rock by one of the table legs he was under. He scooped it up and looked around, his eyes stopping on a roof-rack full of pots. A smile crossed his face as he let the rock fly, hitting one of the big pots, causing the whole rack to shift and sway, dropping several of them to the floor with a commotion of noise and confusion.