Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (44 page)

It will only be a matter of time before these Aeris Lords enslave us. It is inevitable. Once given life, they begin to dream. Their dreams span the entire heart of our kind, from the basest treacheries to the highest ideals. They are our gods and our demons and demand our fealty. It is their nature.

In their place, what lesser station would you accept?

T
EMPEST

Attend an ancient wisdom;

If your woman runs away with another man,

There is no better revenge, than to let him keep her.

—Altan proverb

K
ing Galadine waited in the council chamber, joined by the armsmark, his team, Yetteje, Niall, and the royal guards. He expected the firstmark shortly, with their prisoner. Bernal reflected on his choices.

The torture was unavoidable and he would not regret that. Frankly, Arek’s injured foot was their key bargaining chip now, and though he had not anticipated it, a powerful advantage for them.

He’ll want to be reunited with his master. It won’t take much for him to decide to leave Bara’cor’s hospitality. It occurred to the king that Ash was correct. Arek’s master had real reason to cooperate, mainly because he could depart with his apprentice. He would try to reason with the boy first and leave intimidation as a last resort. Satisfied, he waited for the firstmark to arrive. He did not have long to wait. A few moments later, Jebida entered the council chamber with their prisoner in tow.

The boy hobbled in supported on crutches, escorted on either side by guards. He clearly could put no weight on his injured leg, which now ended in a stump. He looked haggard, devastated, and in pain. Dark circles stood like half-moon bruises under each eye, and to the king the boy looked young and frail. It was hard to believe this was the same person whom Ash held in such high regard.

Behind him came Sargin, the man who had led the interrogation of their prisoner. As the group slowed, Sargin moved around the boy and came to stand next to the king. They had agreed on this tactic earlier, a way to apply added pressure to the boy during these critical negotiations.

The king acknowledged Sargin with a nod, accepting that men like him were unavoidable in times of war. When the king looked back, the boy was looking at his interrogator with a gaze of hatred so pure that for a moment it startled him.

Perhaps this boy has more steel than I thought...

Still, Sargin’s presence would serve to remind the boy of the horror he had endured and make Bernal’s offer even more enticing.

The firstmark and king had chosen to introduce Arek as if he were a guest, hoping it would set the tone of the meeting correctly. The king couldn’t tell if it worked, for the boy stood still, his face unreadable and his faded blue eyes distant. Bernal marveled again at how similar the boy looked to himself, years ago. For him, it was like looking into a mirror dimmed only by time.

"Your Majesty, may I present Arek Winterthorn, apprentice to Master Silbane Petracles."

* * * * *

The king bowed and said, "I won’t waste your time with apologies or false platitudes of friendship. We caught you within our fortress during a time of war and could not hazard those inside. I did what I felt necessary to ensure our safety. Even if you cannot forgive this, I hope you can understand the position you put us in."

Arek slowly looked up at the king, his mind numb. His foot throbbed with every beat of his heart, but when he looked down, there was no foot there. He only glimpsed it once after his interrogation, not willing to look again. Given his training on the Isle, he knew it was not repairable, for there was no foot left to repair. He felt pain in a phantom appendage that no longer existed, and with its disappearance he had lost the rest of his life. Gone, he knew, were his chances of ever being an adept.

He didn’t know this "king." He couldn’t place him in the same reality as the pain he felt, though a detached part of him understood that someone who claimed such a title was ultimately responsible. That was not so for the man standing by the king’s side.

Arek knew
him,
and both hated and feared the sight of Sargin. If he could have wished his pain on someone, it was the man who stood emotionless to the king’s left. He would find a way to make him pay.

For now, though, the apprentice looked at the king numbly, not really knowing what to say. In the end, he decided there was no point in speaking. They knew everything he did and speaking freely now felt like a betrayal to the loss he had suffered. It made no sense, but it was how he felt.

"I cannot fault you for remaining silent, but I have reason to bring you before me." The king looked to another man and motioned for a written report. Scanning the pages, the king looked back at Arek and said, "I’ve read your confession and I believe you. I am willing to offer you a chance to rejoin your master. Though you claim no ability with magic, perhaps with this sword, Tempest, your foot may yet be restored."

Arek was shaken by what the king had just said. Tempest! He'd all but forgotten the blade. He looked around, his mind latching onto this possibility the way a drowning man will clutch at anything. Freedom was something he'd discounted, given the treatment by his captors. The chance to rejoin his master?

He was
sure
Master Silbane could restore his foot, he had said as much when Arek had been given Tempest. He would be healed and he would be rid of these people forever.

No, he vowed silently, I’ll be rid of these people until I have real power. Then I'll return, and there will be a reckoning.

Then it occurred to Arek, this king wouldn’t just let him go free. That made no sense. Something else was going on and though pain dulled his thinking, he knew a bargain was about to be offered. He took a breath, then said in a timorous voice, "You know my master will come for me."

The king nodded, acknowledging Arek’s ability to discern what had remained unsaid. He then handed the report back and drew forth Arek’s Finder. It hung from its thin chain, sparkling and glowing with its own light.

The king said, "We know your master still lives. We also know he’s been captured by the nomads, so he won’t be coming for you any time soon. We want to insert a team into their camp. Their job will be to kill the nomad chieftain. Your Finder—"

"I don’t believe you," Arek interrupted. He understood the king’s plan. They wanted entry into the camp. He wanted to sound sure, but couldn’t help it when his voice cracked as he caught the emotionless eyes of Sargin.

The king shrugged, then said, "We
know
he was taken by the nomads, along with an armored knight. I offer you a chance to rejoin him, and so long as you do not seek retribution, we will give you Tempest. I will have my men..."

Arek’s awareness tunneled in what he now recognized preceded the appearance of Piter. He was not surprised when he turned and saw the shade standing there, but there seemed to be something different about him.

"Revenge!" Piter looked at the frozen scene, his eyes finally coming to rest on Sargin’s form. "Retribution for what he did."

"What do you mean?" In a way, Arek found himself happy for Piter’s appearance. Despite his abandonment before the torture, Piter was the only familiar face in the room, and Arek felt very much alone.

Piter moved closer, his countenance reflecting barely contained fury. "Revenge for daring to attack an Adept of the Isle, and but for Ascension, you are that already! Make no mistake, you have the bargaining power here." He looked around again then nodded at the figure of the king. "He will do
anything
to get into that nomad camp."

Arek thought Piter’s anger strange, but said, "What do you suggest, or are you going to just disappear again?"

Piter smiled, coming conspiratorially close, but careful not to touch the apprentice. "I know a way." Then Piter leaned forward and whispered, and the smile spread to Arek’s face.

* * * * *

". . . watching. So long as you make your way from this fortress peacefully, I will vow to let you go in peace," the king finished. The boy looked like he hadn’t heard the last part, but before he could repeat it, Arek hobbled forward on his crutches.

"I am the only one keyed to use the Finder," Arek said. "And I can transport you and your men to where my master is. What is your plan?"

The king looked at his assembled men, his gaze finally falling on his son. It was for Niall he even considered this. His survival was more important to the king than any other, and sending Ash and his men into harm’s way ensured that. He cleared his throat and looked back at Arek saying, "I will give the blade to Armsmark Rillaran for safekeeping during transport."

Ash stepped forward so Arek could identify him.

"If Ash and his team appear where your master is, the team will free him," the king continued. "And Ash will request his help in killing the leader of these nomads. If Master Silbane agrees, they will carry out that mission. Once accomplished, the armsmark will turn the sword over to your master, who can come back through the portal and collect you. From there, what you and your master do is of no concern to me, so long as you do not interfere with our efforts against the nomads."

"If Silbane refuses, he may take the sword and return here to collect you." The king licked his lips, then added carefully, "Transporting our team into the nomad camp will be considered payment in full for your release. You may depart, but we hope you both will join our cause."

Before Arek could reply, Bernal held up a forestalling hand and said, "Should you alone disappear when the Finder is used, we will consider Tempest held as fair ransom. However, if you wish your master to heal your injuries, you will do your best to make sure Ash and his team make it through the portal, or you will not have the means with which to heal yourself."

Arek was silent for a moment, thinking. He then said, "You assume my master can’t heal me without Tempest."

The king nodded, looking at his men. "We are all making assumptions, but these are desperate times for Bara’cor." The king met Arek’s look with a direct stare and said, "I saw the look on your face when I mentioned your master and the sword, so I believe
you
believe this could work. Am I mistaken?"

"No, you are not, King Galadine," Arek said with a sigh. "Tempest, it seems, is my best chance of ever being normal again." Arek hobbled forward a little more. "I can transport your men to my master’s location and with that you will have a good chance of ending this siege. That means saving many lives, including those you hold most dear." He looked pointedly at Niall, who stood next to the king, so clearly his son and heir.

"I, however, have one demand, or I will not help you." Arek’s eyes left the prince, meeting the king’s in a dead stare.

Bernal too stepped forward. "You are not in a position to bargain. I could have you thrown into a cell to await the inevitable fall of Bara’cor to the nomad army, or perhaps there is more information we might extract." With that Sargin stepped forward and Bernal noted the boy visibly paled, but held his ground.

"Do that and you will never have my help. This fortress will fall and your future will die with you." Arek nodded to Niall with that last statement, his meaning clear.

In that instant, Bernal knew the boy understood his predicament, and what was dearest to the king’s heart. It was a moment of clarity, the knowledge that this boy had insight and cunning. If for no other reason than this, Bernal began to believe the boy might in fact be more than he claimed. A grave trepidation began to grow in the king’s heart, a fear he was about to make a terrible error in letting Arek live. Still, if he hoped for his line to continue, the hope rested on receiving his prisoner’s help.

The feeling of dread grew at Arek’s unasked demand, but the king used that feeling, the dread that had grown inside him, to lend steel to his voice, "I could just have you killed."

Arek met his eyes and their gazes locked, each measuring the other.

"King Galadine, I am trained in the ways of combat. With what has been done to my body by Bara’cor’s hands, I am already dead. Without my foot, and my master, there is nothing for me to live for. You have nothing to compel me with and we both know it."

Arek’s pale eyes never wavered. Bernal saw that he spoke the truth. He believed all he was or could be required his body to be whole, and his eyes reflected his belief and brooked no argument.

The king bowed his head and nodded. "What do you want?"

"I want the life of that man," Arek said, pointing to Sargin, his interrogator. "I want him to be executed now, in front of me."

Stunned silence followed Arek’s request. It was as if he had spoken in a different language, one that none in the room wanted to understand. The king was the first to recover, "I... you can’t be serious."

"I am."

Ash stepped forward, looking at the king, then at Arek. "We’ll not kill someone acting on orders, against an intruder. Why not ask for my head as well? I’m the reason you were captured in the first place."

Recognition that he had faced this man before in combat sparked into place. Arek drew a breath, shaking his head and said, "You faced me across live blades, sir, and wagered your life against mine. I accept that, because it was done with honor." Arek turned his attention back to Sargin with a look of contempt.
"He
tortured a bound prisoner and never wagered his own safety."

The firstmark shoved himself forward and retorted hotly, "He was following orders!"

Arek faced the giant firstmark and shot back, "And should all orders be followed, sir?"

When Jebida said nothing, Arek turned his attention back to the king and said, "My master taught me that the measure of a man’s worth is in his actions. They define
character.
This man deserves to die, and I will have his life else we are done negotiating." Arek gingerly stepped back, carefully balancing on one leg, his armpits on the crutches.

"Where is the honor in what you request? How is your character being defined now?" asked the king.