Son of Ereubus (26 page)

“I’ll be back,” she whispered. She was trying to convince herself more than inform the horse. She walked in the direction of Eidolon.

It was a barren place, much darker than she’d envisioned. The gates weren’t guarded, which made her nervous. She supposed it was because the city itself hadn’t been attacked in centuries. The last time Adorians were in Eidolon openly was nearly two thousand years earlier.

Eidolon was expansive, a great black nothingness that seemed to go on forever. There were only small bushes and shrubs to hide in along the edge of the wood. Past that was a barren field of tangled root and mire, where she’d be seen long before she reached the gates.

Ill at ease, she rested with her back against a great rock, covered mostly in moss and leaves. Absently, she played with her necklace, running the amulet along the chain as she wracked her mind for ideas. Though the map had shown her how to get to Eidolon and that there were Braeden-built structures below the city itself, it gave no hint about how to find the entrance or if the amulet was indeed a key at all.

After nearly half an hour, she had convinced herself that crawling along the ground was the only way she would have any chance of entering the city. She’d started to lower herself to the ground when her necklace was snatched from her neck.

She froze, thinking that any moment Garren would again show up out of thin air, but after a few minutes of silence, she started to wonder if she hadn’t imagined it. She placed her hand where the amulet had been, and indeed it was gone.

She brushed aside moss and leaves, and dirt, finding nothing but Ezzai worms and Shiela bugs. She was about to give up when her fingers grazed over something that didn’t feel at all like stone.

She pulled everything back, wiping the dirt away to uncover an intricate design carved into the rock.

I was right!

More desperate than before, she rooted around until, clutching the amulet in her hands, she crawled back to the stone and slid it into a crevice in the design’s center.

Suddenly, the rock shifted beside her and a narrow passageway opened, exposing stairs that led into the ground. Plucking the necklace from the lock, she tucked it into her pocket.

She reasoned with herself that she should feel afraid, but she simply wasn’t. She felt more assured now than before she’d left Adoria.
Sara is here!

Candles were lit along the walls, as though someone stood guard to await her arrival. As she passed through the empty corridors, she saw that paintings adorned the walls, and remnants of life — pots, papers and clothing — still rested in nooks and crannies.

My father was here…

It wasn’t long until she found the first door. A faint golden star had been painted on the wall just a few feet back, and she realized this must signify the division in the courts — if what she’d read was correct concerning the layout of the city.

Pressing her hand against the door, she leaned her ear to it, listening for any sign of life on the other side, and heard nothing but her own shallow breathing.

It took a short time for her to gather the courage to pry open the door and peer into the night beyond. She stilled her mind and slipped through to the other side.

Turning to examine the door, she gasped to see that it was no longer there — or, if it was, it could not be seen. Panic momentarily seized her, but a lumbering Dragee nudged her onward before she could give her fear a foothold. She made her way along a darkened corridor until she saw a gleaming white temple in the distance.

Adorian stone,
she mused.

She studied the attire of those entering the temple, and found that she had been right in her estimation of what middle-lower-class Ereubinians wore. Bravely, and somewhat blindly, she stepped forward onto the steps and made her way into the temple.

She could tell right away who was human beyond the temple doors. The humans peered out beneath dark scarlet cloaks, but what struck her was how attractive all of them were. Perhaps those who manned the temple couldn’t be burdened with the presence of unsightly servants. Or worse, perhaps this place was used for worship of a sexual nature. She seemed to recall a description of a breeder, but hadn’t lingered on it long. The very idea made her feel sick.

She traveled deeper into the temple, hearing the curious sound of laughter. Great curtains were hung along most of the walls, to keep the draft down, but it worked to her benefit and she slid easily behind the one nearest the voices. Peering out, what she saw left her speechless.

His wings were bloodied and torn, ragged from beatings and neglect. His face was wan. A collar was fastened around his neck, glowing with a dull amber light. She thought of how she’d seen Gregor in her dream, held by humans in red robes.

“Well done, well done,” an Ereubinian whose voice matched the laughter she’d heard came from a darkened corner in the room. Something about his face felt as if she’d seen him before — he favored Garren physically.

He walked up to the Adorian and, to her bewilderment, handed him a blade.

She expected the Adorian to gut the Ereubinian, but instead, at the sound of a single-word command, the Adorian turned on the two humans who held him and took the blade to their guts.

Clasping her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, she whipped around and closed her eyes with her face against the wall, her heart pounding. She heard a voice telling the Ereubinian that observance would begin soon and waited until they left before forcing her eyes open.

The Adorian remained seated calmly in the room, blood covering his hands and soaking his clothes. She stared at him through the curtain, wanting to do something, wishing there was some way to snap him out of whatever spell he was under.

What foul magic is this?

Mournfully, she turned to leave him, remembering that if Sara had been chosen as a breeder, she would be in observance as well, dressed in white robes.

It felt like an eternity before she was able to find a white robe that would allow her entrance into the sanctuary. She slipped it on just as the humans passed through the doors.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
IX

W
HAT
H
AVE
I D
ONE
?

G

arren had been hunting all day. His body was tired, but he’d been successful in his efforts, carrying several deer and a wolf back with him. The beasts were tied across the saddle of his Dragee as he walked beside it, reins in hand.

Things had not been well since Jules was slain. The other men were anxious for retribution but Garren needed more time to sort through things, gain his bearings. He’d spent a lot of time in prayer and solitude, neither of which had helped him come to a decision or boosted his men’s confidence in him. He re-organized the remainder of Jules’ men and placed them under the jurisdiction of another commander. Tadraem had suggested they be taken to the outer regions for training and Garren really hadn’t been able to argue — the logic was sound. He’d told his own men they would resume preparations at the beginning of the week.

Garren was wandering through the city when Micah, with whom Garren had spent a good amount of time since the night of Jules’ brigade’s slaughter, approached him. The boy was out of breath and tried several times to speak, but nothing intelligible escaped his lips. Garren laughed, thinking that like most youth, he was being melodramatic. “Slow down. I can’t understand you.”

“I swear to you, as sure as I stand here, that I’ve heard Aiden speak. I overheard him talking with another about the men in the outer regions. The man was reporting to Aiden that his command had been carried out. He said the humans were dead and positioned at the border to Adoria.”

Garren’s face fell. Micah wouldn’t have known of their presence in the outer regions had he not overheard someone else speak of it. “Was anything else said?”

Micah shook his head. “I followed Aiden to see if I could discover anything else, my Lord, but he said little after that.”

Garren had disclosed more to Micah than he’d ever intended to. Micah had been brave enough to begin to ask him questions after Garren didn’t do as he’d obviously expected upon finding the cloak. He’d asked what Michael had meant about his sister. Garren, without considering it, told him of their meeting, his release of her in Palingard and of his subsequent visions.

“At any point did you repeat anything Michael said to you to anyone other than me?” Garren asked.

Micah shook his head. “No, my Lord. I would never have even considered it.”

Garren believed him. Somehow, Tadraem had to have overheard his discussion with Micah. He clenched his jaw and leaned toward Micah. “I want you to keep your distance from me until I come for you. I sense dark intents being set into motion and I don’t want you hurt in the crossfire.”

They’d been searching for Ariana for hours. Kaitlyn found Michael that morning and mentioned that she wasn’t in her room, which didn’t immediately alarm him; he was under the assumption that she was with Jareth, as they’d taken several early morning rides. It wasn’t until he ran into Jareth in the afternoon that he became alarmed. Jareth hadn’t heard from her all day.

They immediately set off looking for her in the caverns. Duncan sent his men to search for her over the cold terrain of the Adorian wilderness. When Michael, Duncan, Jareth, Bronach and Jenner met back at the castle at dusk in the council room, no one had found any trace of her. The only clue they had to go on was that wherever she was, she’d taken her horse.

“She kept her bow and quiver in a case attached to her saddle.” Michael said.

Jareth’s countenance displayed the same sick expression, though he was trying his best to deny it. “She isn’t that foolish, Michael, expel the very idea.”

Duncan stepped past Jenner. “What idea?”

Michael lowered his head, almost fearful to say the words aloud lest they come true just by being spoken. “She’s had concern over a friend of hers from Palingard. Yesterday’s discovery didn’t — ”

“She’s worried about Sara,” Duncan interrupted. “They were thicker than thieves. What was the last thing she said to you?”

Michael thought back. “She asked if I was still unwilling to help Sara.” As he said the words, remembered her whispered response, he knew. “She’s gone to Eidolon alone.”

“Then we’ve lost precious time looking here,” Jareth said. “Assuming that she left sometime in the night, she should be nearing Fool’s Marsh.” Jareth was right, but Michael’s body didn’t want to cooperate.

“She has been studying Eidolon’s history and customs for weeks,” Bronach said, “and I know she has at least one map of the city.”

What have I done?
She would have been in danger just by being an Adorian, but he’d made it known to his mortal enemy that she was his sister. He lowered his head in his hands.

Duncan cleared his throat. “Then our decision has been made for us. The Braeden will suit up within the hour.”

“Ready your men, Michael,” Jenner said. “You have the council’s full blessing.”

Michael was grateful that Jenner had taken seriously their discussion from the night before concerning Ariana’s powers. But he hadn’t expected this response from the elder. It had been two thousand years or more since Adorians had been openly in Eidolon.

Jenner responded as if he’d read Michael’s mind. “We have no choice but to enter into open warfare. Bronach has shown me passages from the scrolls that lead me to believe that Ariana’s powers may be related to the strength that forged the divide. If Eidolon knows this, it could be the reason Garren spared her life and has been sending visions to lure her there. They need her in order to usher the human army into Adoria.”

The next two hours were a blur as Michael was suited in his armor and readied his weapons. Though typical Adorian armor was all silver, Michael, as Archorigen, wore a gold breastplate that was carved with ornate symbols from the scrolls of the ancients. He knew the symbols signified strength, honor, and power, but despite the carving’s archaic meaning and the lightness of the Adorian metals that made up his suit of arms, he’d never felt more burdened or unable to breathe under the weight of it. The main joint of his wings was protected by a series of small plates, made of the same special metal, that allowed him flight and served as moderate protection against Ereubinian arrows.

At last, he leaned against the outside wall of the stables to catch his breath before heading out. He was there only a brief moment before turning; as he did so, he caught a glimpse of Bronach in the distance, his features distorted by the dim light. Eyes, once gentle, looked fierce — his face chiseled with the hard lines of a much-younger man, yet when the historian stepped closer, the torchlight revealed again the soft, humble visage Michael had grown fond of.