by Mark B Frost
“It’s hard to say. I would not have judged him far better than Lord Abaddon, but he would not check himself in. He said he was going to wait in his office.”
“He has doubtless been through quite an ordeal. Would you do me a favor?”
“Of course, Your Holiness.”
“Find Lady Serene and tell her that Atheme has returned and is in his office. She will go to see him, and her own healing powers are formidable. Atheme will accept her help, if not ours.”
“As you wish, Lord Aveni.”
The aide turned and headed on his way down a side hall. Aveni stopped before the door of the infirmary and took an unsteady breath, drawing energy from his Staff. It was nearly depleted of holy energy from having used the Miracle so recently, but even the little remaining bolstered his body and made him feel years younger. He opened the door, and immediately several aides rushed over and led him to one of the small emergency rooms.
* * * * *
Upon receiving news of Atheme’s return, Serene made her way swiftly to his office. With the stress of the Kargaroth situation weighing on her mind and unable to help, she had turned to Jessandra for company. She had thus spent much of the day at the Emle estates, remembering the lighter side of her personality. Now that Kargaroth was back within Felthespar’s walls, the seriousness of her mission returned wholly to the forefront. She rushed to see Atheme and learn the whereabouts of the sword.
She reached the door to his office and knocked. Her impatience got the better of her, and she waited only a couple of seconds before opening the door and heading in.
Atheme sat in the chair behind his desk, his hands resting on his stomach. He was covered in cuts and burns, and a trail of blood led from the office door to where he sat now. He stared at Serene with an empty expression.
“Hello, Relm.”
This cold and unexpected response from the man made her shiver, and she lost her resolve to ask about Kargaroth. Instead she took a few slow steps forward, wishing to comfort him but unsure how.
“I heard you won,” she opened limply, regretting the words even as they left her mouth.
“Victory is defeat,” he responded softly, his eyes looking at nothing within the room, but something far away.
“What?”
“It’s the curse of the Lord Councilor. My curse, inherited from Calvin. Victory is defeat.”
“Atheme, are you okay?”
He shook his head numbly. “It took too much of me. I thought I could do it. I thought I could kill Abaddon for the safety of my country, for the sake of my people. Only now have I realized that he was my people. After Calvin passed I was so alone, Relm. My entire life was just going through the motions, walking this path of glory that was expected of me. I’ve had my share of allies and acquaintances, but I was so alone until Abaddon arrived. I don’t know when, but at some point he became my family. He has always stood by me, through everything. He put all of his faith in me.” His face tightened and fresh tears began to flow. “He wanted me to save him. He believed that I would save him, and I didn’t. I didn’t even try.”
“Atheme, you did what you had to—”
“No!” he interrupted fervently, slamming his fist into the desk. Many of his wounds opened and poured fresh blood with his sudden movement. “I don’t want to hear that! Do you understand me? There were other options. The sword may have changed him, but it couldn’t erase him. It seemed like he was a monster, that I was an insect for him to squash. But in the final moments, when the monster moved to strike me down, Abaddon cried out. He asked me to stop, begged me to save him. But I didn’t want to hear him! I was too afraid to listen. I told myself I was doing what I had to do!” He let his head droop forward, his tears dripping onto the desk. Then he looked up at her with pain in his eyes. “I took the easy way out. I killed my best friend, because he was the only man I ever feared.”
“Anyone would have, Atheme. He had become a monster, you said so yourself.”
“Everyone has always feared him. Kinguin has warned me, since I first brought him here, of the threat he represents. But I wasn’t supposed to fear him. Not me. I was supposed to trust him, when no one else did. It was our bond. I trusted him and he trusted me. No deceptions between us, no lies, no compromise. But I wasn’t strong enough. I was never as strong as him. I let my fear overcome me and I stopped listening when he cried out for my help. He was never the monster everyone tried to make him into.” His voice grew softer. “He was my brother, and I didn’t even try to save him. I would rather sit here and die of the wounds that he inflicted on me than to live the rest of my days watching him lie on the ground in front of me, cut down by my own hand.” He gritted his teeth and fought back more tears. “It’s all I can see. Every time I shut my eyes I have to kill him again.”
Serene shot around the desk and launched herself gently into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her tightly. “I know I can’t stop your pain, but I promise I’ll never stop trying. I’ll never leave your side. I will always be here for you, and nothing will ever change that.”
His arms slowly slid up from his side and wrapped around her waist. “I need you more than I ever have.”
“I know, honey. I’m here. Your Relm is here,” she whispered, and together they sat and mourned.
* * * * *
Aveni took a step back from Abaddon and removed his surgical gloves. He wiped his forehead, then turned to his aides and shook his head. He walked slowly out of the operating room and encountered Kulara.
As soon as the General saw Aveni he marched over and gave a salute. “Cardinal Landes, just the man I was looking for. Someone told me that Daemon’s been checked in. He and I are overdue for some words. If it’s the same with you, I’d like to try to get some things straightened out.”
The man gave a bow. “I’m afraid he has passed.”
Kulara’s eyes went wide. “What, you mean dead? From what?! What is going on around here? Does this have something to do with Myris? If this is a national security matter, seems to me it’s past time I be read in on it!”
“Forgive me, General, I have been overwhelmed as of late. I assumed Kinguin had made certain everyone was up to speed. Abaddon has been under the influence of The Unholy Blade, Kargaroth. When things got out of hand, Kinguin and I awakened Atheme. He stopped Abaddon and took the sword from him, inflicting dreadful injuries on both in the process. Abaddon did not make it to me in time to give him a chance of survival. Though in truth I do not believe anyone could have survived wounds such as these. I would have required a Miracle, and will not have one again for some years.”
Kulara continued to stare in shock. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe he’s dead. I can’t believe Atheme killed him.” He paused, tapping his foot while thinking furiously. “Well that explains why he assaulted me in the bar. But what does this mean about Myris? Is he really a traitor, or is that something Abaddon made up when he wasn’t himself?”
“I do not think I have any further useful information on the subject, General. If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you would find Atheme and Serene and tell them to come immediately. I don’t wish to move the body until Atheme has seen for himself. Perhaps he can answer more of your questions.”
He shook his head slowly, then saluted again. “Aye. I’ll fetch them. You know where they are?”
“I believe they are in Atheme’s office.”
The General took his leave, and the priest took a seat on one of the nearby beds with a sigh. He had always liked Abaddon. The man had been rough around the edges, but Aveni had always believed he had a good heart and was capable of great loyalty. One of the aides stopped by and asked if he would like to return to his chambers, but he declined. He needed to see to the closing of this matter before he would be able to rest again.
* * * * *
Cildar entered the prison where Myris was being held, carrying a large and carefully wrapped bundle over his back. He motioned for the two guard
s to step outside and wait for him, relieved them of their keys, then moved to the barred door that stood between himself and the prisoner.
Myris sat motionless on the only piece of furniture in his cell, a small wooden bench. In his right hand he held a large red orb, about four inches in diameter, and his other hand held his mask in a crushing grip. His head was covered with dark brown hair, and long bangs draped over eyes of the same color. His mouth was small and tight, and there was a humorlessness in his eyes that befit his personality.
“I’m realizing,” Cildar commented, “that I’ve never before seen your face. It’s oddly fitting. It makes it all the clearer that I don’t really know you at all.”
“I am Myris Phare, of the Cainites. The same as I have always been.”
The Dragoon ignored this statement. “What are you holding?”
“It’s a Flash Mine—a Cainite device that works in a fashion similar to our weapon magic. I charge it with an elemental spell, and it magnifies and releases it as an explosion. It’s how I’m going to get out of here.”
“I’d ask how you got it in, but I can’t say that I’m surprised.” He sat aside the bundle he had brought, then took the keys and unlocked the cell. He stepped over to Myris and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Myris spent a moment debating. His jailer waited patiently, but did not budge. Finally the prisoner reached up and handed over the device. Cildar paced to the other side of the cell while placing it into a satchel at his side.
“I’ll give this to the General, for safe keeping.” He leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed. “The word is that you’re a traitor to Felthespar, but your accuser has not brought forth any evidence to support his claim. It has since been revealed that he was under the influence of powerful magic and not of his right mind. The case against you is weak. You are still a Grand Councilor of Felthespar and your word holds weight. So tell me it’s not true. Tell me that you’re not a traitor, so we can put this all behind us.”
“I am not a traitor,” he said with emphasis.
Cildar slammed his fist into the wall behind him. “Don’t you lie to me!” he roared with all his strength.
Myris leaped to his feet and roared back, “I do not lie! I am no traitor!”
They stared at each other for a long time. Finally Cildar responded coldly, “Convince me, Myris.”
The Cainite glanced to the open door of the cell. “I need you to understand, Cildar. I am a man of two countries, but I have betrayed neither. I admit, not all I have told you is true. My people are not the last of the Cainites. Rather, we are outcasts of a sort. After the failure of the Arocaen, the Cainites began to doubt their religion. They turned from the teachings of Vaelius and became bitter, burrowing deeper into the mountains. I am the last remaining cleric of Vaelius, raised by his only living Saint. The people who follow me are the last who truly believe in his will.”
“You mean his will to conquer all other peoples.”
“No! The Arocaen was a mistake, a misinterpretation of Vaelius’ will. It is true that our people’s bodies are enhanced to be better, our culture designed to be superior. We are made to be a greater strand of humanity, but it was not to rule. We were to be shepherds, to set an example, not become conquerors. My people lost sight of the will of Vaelius and it nearly destroyed our society.”
“I’m not interested in the history lesson.”
“I need you to understand that my objective is not aligned with Cainis. My band of faithful splintered from our society and renounced our citizenship, then came to Felthespar with one purpose: to secure Kargaroth. I have been conditioned my entire life to resist the influence of the sword. For the will of Vaelius, I was to find The Unholy Blade and take it where it could be used by neither the people of Felthespar nor Cainis.”
The small room grew quiet. “I’ll say this,” Cildar replied after a moment of thought, “you’re either honest, or you and your people are well coached.”
“My people?” Myris responded quizzically. A second later he narrowed his eyes in realization. “You tortured them.”
“A few. I verified the parts of their stories I could. I had to know the truth before I spoke to you. I had to know if I could trust you.”
“You should not have done that. I would rather you had killed me than harm my people.”
“Those weren’t the options. If you’re put to death, the same will be done to many or all of them. I take no joy in what I did, but I’m trying to save your life and theirs. So is that it? This is all over some old sword?”
“It is so much more, Cildar. From the moment my people crafted Kargaroth we knew it was a grave mistake. We sought to destroy it when your Talis stole it from us. These many decades later, we still seek to atone for our sin. Kargaroth is no mere sword. It is the ultimate power on Morolia. Whoever wields it has the powers of a god and cannot fall.”
“Then why didn’t you leave it sealed in its cave?”
“I could not be certain that Kinguin did not have a way to retrieve it. Furthermore, if Relm could solve the mystery of the rune wall, others might as well. No, I had to have it myself, so I could take it far away from all who might use its power. But I failed when it mattered most. Once Abaddon had the sword I could not take it from him. I fear we will all pay dearly for my folly.”
The paladin shook his head sadly. “You hold so tightly to these old legends. You let your faith blind you, Myris. Kargaroth is only a sword.”
“You did not see what I have seen. You did not see it in the hands of Abaddon Daemon.”
“I didn’t need to. You claim that Kargaroth is the ultimate power on Morolia, one that makes its wielder into a god. Yet Atheme has defeated Abaddon. He struck him down and took the sword back.”
“No. You are misled. That is impossible.”
Instead of responding, the man walked out of the cell and retrieved the package, unwrapping it and throwing it to the floor. The Unholy Blade landed with a clang, bouncing for a moment before settling. Myris fell to his knees and raised his hands over the sword, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It’s just a sword,” Cildar repeated.
The Cainite looked up to him. “Lord Vaelius—”
“Have you spoken to your god directly?”
“No. But his Saint—”
“You’ve been manipulated. This weapon isn’t what you’ve been led to believe. Maybe someone wants it for themselves, maybe they truly believe what they told you. But your mission comes from no god. It was a fool’s errand from the beginning.”
“I do not understand,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. “This cannot be.”
“Unlike you,” Cildar continued, “I take no stock in these legends, and place no value in this blade. If you want it, then take it. Leave Felthespar and never let me see you again.” He knelt down on one knee. “But if everything you’ve told me is true, then forsake the sword. Renounce your Cainite heritage and swear fealty to Felthespar alone.”
Myris stared at Kargaroth for a long time, then rose to his feet and took a step back. “If it had come to it,” he answered quietly, “for my mission, for this sword, I would have betrayed Felthespar. I would have betrayed Cainis. I would have betrayed Abaddon, and Kulara, and Atheme, even my own people who have served me loyally these many years.” He grew silent for a moment, then looked up with a tight throat, struggling to say the words. “But I do not have it within me to betray you, Cildar Emle.”
To his shock, Cildar shot across the cell and slammed a fist into his chest, blasting him into the wall behind. He fell to the ground and vomited up blood as the Dragoon announced, “Then with this blow struck, Myris Phare of the Cainites is dead, slain by my own hand.” He reached behind his back and retrieved a weapon from under his cape, tossing it across the cell. The injured man looked up to see his Soul Scythe lying before him. “May Myris Phare the Onion Knight, my dear friend, have a long and honorable life.”
Myris reached forward and grabbe
d his weapon, drawing energy from it to mend his aching bones. Cildar leaned to the ground and bound Kargaroth once more, then threw it over his shoulder and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Myris shouted after him. The paladin turned cautiously as the prisoner rose to his feet. “As I said, I was a man of two countries who has betrayed neither. But if I am a Cainite no longer, then there is something I must tell you.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve already extracted it from your people.”
“They do not know. It is a secret that only the most esteemed members of Cainite society were aware of at the time of our exodus. Of my people, I alone know this. There is a second Arocaen coming.”
“What do you mean?” Cildar asked, taking a step closer.
“Did you not think it was odd that Kargaroth rested in Felthespar for three centuries, yet only now did her retrieval become a concern? The Cainite army has been amassing for years. I do not know when it will be complete, but my mission was to get Kargaroth away from the city before the war began. I was trying to prevent the deaths it would unleash in a war between our peoples.”
“Forget all of that. Leave Kargaroth to me. Atheme, Kinguin, and I will make certain it’s handled. But we’re going to have a much longer talk on this very soon.”
“I have always been loyal to my country, Cildar. I swear to you, I will protect her—Felthespar—with all my ability. For the war that is to come you will be well served to count me as an ally.”
The paladin stepped back and closed the cell door once more. “With the compromising information surrounding Abaddon, I can easily get you released. But an impending Cainite invasion is going to complicate matters. We’re going to have to reinforce the Children of Cain myth that Atheme created. Even so, you’re going to be taking a lot of renewed scrutiny. Sit tight for a while, I’m going to try to circulate some good publicity before we make another move.”
Myris looked down at the Soul Scythe in his hands and gave a peaceful smile. He returned the weapon into the folds of his cloak, then sat once more on the cell’s bench.
