Son of Ereubus (34 page)

Michael said nothing for a time, obviously mulling over what she’d just said. “I believe what he’s said to me, having seen the truth in his words for myself. But as for his motives or what is behind his dramatic transformation, we may never know. We may never have the chance
to
know.”

She felt herself getting upset again. “Then it’s already been decided. He’ll be executed?”

Michael’s expression shifted without effort from concerned sibling to provident leader. “His death will benefit our people more than sparing his life, despite his recent change of heart — if that’s truly what’s occurred.”

She looked down. She wasn’t going to argue, what her brother said made perfect sense. It just wasn’t what her gut told her. “What of the prophecy? What if this change of heart means he’s the only one who can defeat the Oni?” Her question seemed to take him aback. “I’ve learned much since I came here, thanks to Bronach. There’s never been an Ereubinian born with Adorian blood in his veins. Surely this must mean something.”

“There’s so much we don’t know about the scrolls and the ancient texts. I can’t base my decisions on such tenuous things, not when it comes to the good of our realm.”

Ariana nodded. “I understand. Will the council even meet then?”

“Yes. There are still things concerning the matter that need to be discussed. You aren’t fighting me on this?”

“I have faith in your decisions. I just wanted you to hear my thoughts on the matter. I could never get Father to understand that, either. I may not command an army of thousands or lead a kingdom, but that perhaps opens my eyes to things that would be of little consequence to you. Sometimes it is those very things that bring ruin or revelation.”

“Your words shame my heart.”

She reached over and took his hand. “Michael, your efforts weren’t unmerited. Don’t think for a moment that I am ungrateful. I love you as a brother who I have always known — as a sister who has always been watched over.”

Michael had moved to sit up with his back against the headboard. “I love you, too,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “I always felt like something was missing, even before Father died.” He looked to the side. “Speaking of the Saeculum reminded me of something. Before Father died, he asked me if I recalled the way to the Saeculum. In fact, it was the very day he died that he asked me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time and didn’t get the opportunity to find out why he’d asked, but the question does have a curious feel to it. And this,” he pointed to the key, “makes me wonder if it isn’t just one more thing he was keeping from us.”

She worried the key in her hand, memorizing the lines.

Michael let go of her hand and tipped her chin to look at him. “Healed or not, you need rest — you’re exhausted. Am I wrong?”

“No, I feel it. And I’m not the only one fighting sleep here. You should get some more rest yourself.” She touched him on the shoulder as she rose. “Sweet dreams.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
IVE

YOU’RE TOO LATE

I

t began as it always did. Michael stood facing the northern entrance to the city, feeling the tension in the air. His senses were clouded, everything carrying the fog of a dream, suffocating weight bearing down.

Their cries could be heard from a fair distance as they approached, echoing off the once-sheltering arms of the mountains. He stood motionless as they swooped down, talons bared. Helpless, he witnessed several Adorians ravaged by their hands. Claws tore into bodies, blood dripping down the Moriors’ withered, hollow cores. One of them turned toward Michael, the same one as each time before, and grinned with glistening teeth, its man-like jaws sunken into a fleshless face. He tried moving his arms, and felt the familiar paralysis in his limbs. Frozen in place, he closed his eyes to the carnage around him, hoping with every fiber in his being to wake from the nightmare once again.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, digging in hard to his collarbone. It shook him awake. The illusionary film that had always pervaded vanished, and the sounds of his realm’s fear grew unclouded. He turned to see Garren standing beside him in the city.

Garren pulled Michael behind him as he drew his sword. With one flowing movement he turned, blocking the Morior from Michael and plunging his blade deep into its chest. It fell to the ground, but not before clipping Garren. He howled in pain as he grabbed his leg. He jerked his sword free, raised it into the air, then swung down and severed the creature’s head cleanly from its neck.

“Ariana’s here, I can feel it, but I can’t find her.” Garren’s words were rushed.

Michael glanced around him to gain his bearings, then motioned for Garren to follow him, but as he started toward the castle, Garren clutched his arm.

“She’s not there. I just came from that direction.” Garren hitched a breath as he shifted his stance. The injury to his leg was substantial.

“Are you able to walk?”

“I don’t have a choice!”

They began to weave their way through the battle. Michael picked up a sword from one of the fallen. Following just behind Garren, he fought off several Ereubinians. The chaos was difficult to maneuver around, the casualties mounting on both sides.

It wasn’t long until they reached the center courtyard. Everything had grown dark, the sky burdened with black rolling clouds. He could hear someone speaking, but couldn’t understand what was being said. Garren ran ahead, Michael emerging through the hedge moments later.

Ariana was on her knees; a hollow expression on her face, her eyes fixed on the distance. She was clothed in a black gown, with the hood from her cloak draped over her head. Michael started to run toward her, Garren by his side, when it appeared.

Behind Ariana, a great white dragon materialized. The light from its presence was stunning. It glistened with iridescent scales. Great blue eyes peered down at them, shining fiercely.

“Ciara,” Garren murmured. He stood motionless at her sight.

She was over forty feet tall, looming over them. Her shadow covered Ariana completely. Ariana remained still as Ciara reached down to her. Sharp claws pierced her chest, light streaming from the entry wounds. Yet, she did not lose consciousness. Instead she rose to her feet, a look in her eyes that drained the blood from Michael’s heart. He watched as she raised her hand, a small ball of light forming above her palm, the same as he had seen in the old world. She parted her lips, and began to speak.

As the words spilled from her mouth, the earth beneath them began to tremble. The light grew in intensity, spinning faster and faster, until it had become larger in size than Ariana herself. Ciara snatched the ball into her clawed hand and held it in the air. She opened her immense jaw.

The sound that escaped from the dragon was indescribable. It was more than a scream. It was a cry that summoned every Morior to circle around her, matching the intensity of her tone. Michael could not have heard her, but he no longer saw Ariana’s lips moving. Everything slowed as the light erupted, covering all of them, expanding out. A tremendous crack followed by a loud rumble echoed against the sudden emptiness of the landscape. Michael fell to the ground. When the light faded, he rose to his feet. Garren was still beside him.

There was nothing left. They stood in what remained of the courtyard, surrounded by a gruesome landscape. Nothing was as it had been. The ground itself was thick with an inky blackness. It wasn’t mud or mire, but something else entirely. It started to wrap itself around his ankle, but he shook his foot free.

Everything was silent. Ciara still stood before them, motionless. Ariana had once again knelt down, facing them. He could barely make out her figure, her clothes blending in with the surroundings. But he could still see her eyes. They were even more intensely blue than Ciara’s. He looked at Garren, who sank to his knees as well.

Suddenly, Garren began to speak. The words coming from his lips were similar in sound to those spoken by Ariana. He closed his eyes, and reached out his hands.

Michael could do nothing. Paralysis had returned to his limbs, holding him from anything but witnessing the events around him.

A wicked laugh unfurled from the depth of Ciara’s belly. The loudness of it sounded across the empty expanse. He was surprised to hear her speak. He was even more surprised at the sylvan quality of the voice.

“You are too late. She is mine.” She laughed again, looking down. Ariana’s expression slowly grew into one of possession. Her eyes darkened as she threw her head back and screamed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wailed with pain. He barely heard himself crying out for her over the sound.

He awoke clutching his chest. Jareth was at his side, shaking him.

“Michael! Wake up!”

He couldn’t move at first; his whole body stuck in remembrance of the paralysis it had just possessed.

“I heard you screaming for Ariana from down the hall. She’s fine, remember, we’re back home. Everything’s all right.”

Michael’s sight slowly cleared, and his heart rate returned to normal, but he still couldn’t find his tongue.

“This was no ordinary dream, my son.” Jenner’s words were a welcome sound compared to Ariana’s screams, which still echoed in his ears. Not that he didn’t appreciate Jareth’s efforts.

“No, it wasn’t. More tangible than any dream I’ve ever had.” He saw then that Jareth’s arm was bound in a sling. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not the one emitting such frightful wails. What in the world did you see in this dream?”

“Jareth, if you would please allow me privacy to speak with Michael for a moment?”

Jareth nodded, not giving his father an ounce of resistance. It was a respect that Michael had seen greatly mature over the last ten years. After Gabriel died, Jareth seemed to appreciate his own father more. He rose from Michael’s side and slipped from the room.

“Ciara had Ariana, Jenner. Whatever powers my sister possesses, Ciara had complete domination over them, and it …” He paused. How to explain? Everything in their world had rotted away, leaving only death and emptiness in its place. “The Oni is clearly referred to as a male, but could it have been written as to mislead?”

Jenner was hesitant to answer. “I don’t believe so, but it would behoove us to assume that those who penned the prophecies may not have told us everything.”

“And what does this mean for Garren? He was with me in this dream. Ciara said to him ‘You’re too late,’ as if he had the power to stop her. Do we risk keeping him alive and lose the faith of our people — or do we execute him and risk losing what may be the key to saving Adoria itself? Do the scrolls say anything of this?”

Jenner shook his head. “No, but in addition to the scrolls, the ancients also left us with a very strong code of moral and legal laws. It does not appear they intended to contradict themselves.” Jenner sat down in a chair near the bed. “The choice is yours to make. I have already met with the council and our will is that the decision will rest in your hands alone. We will not intervene.”

He was surprised to hear this. He’d thought the council to be taking on a more involved role after the last time he had met with them.

Jenner seemed to sense Michael’s confusion. “You know the laws and how they are to be applied. If you feel it necessary to your sister’s safety to keep him alive, so be it. You wouldn’t have been chosen as ruler had we not had faith in your judgment. The sole reason we conveyed our disapproval of your last judgment was because you made a call out of unfounded theory. Revelation of your sister’s powers is something not to be taken lightly.”

“I need to speak with Garren.” Michael started to rise when Jenner stopped him.

“You believe him to have been privy to this vision as well?”

Michael looked past the windows. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” He rose to his feet, stretching his wings. They were sore and felt heavy. He rubbed his shoulder and peeked at the bandage on his arm. His leg was wrapped, making it awkward to move. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, maneuvering his wings painfully as he finished dressing.

Jenner headed toward the door before addressing Michael again. “I will see you when we meet with the council, assuming the world does not fall to pieces before then.”

Jenner smirked and for a moment the tension was lessoned. Michael sighed. “The way things have been going, it very well might.”

Michael grabbed his cloak. He never thought he’d see the day that he desperately needed to speak with Garren and it was this thought that ran through his head as he limped down several corridors. When he was around the corner from Garren’s cell, he heard raised voices.

“Michael will see you when he feels it necessary,” the guard’s words were clipped and teeming with disgust.

“Please, you don’t understand the weight of … I
must
speak with him.”

The guard seemed to have heard enough of Garren. As Michael walked into the hall, he saw the Adorian lean into the door, pressing his face to the bars. Judging by the hatred in his expression, he was about to say something rather nasty when, unfortunately for him, he discovered that some of his shirt fabric was exposed through the railing, just enough for Garren to grab hold of.

“Believe me,” Garren hissed, “he’ll feel it …”

Michael stepped up before Garren could finish his sentence. “Let him go. I believe I know what urgent matter you’re referring to.” Garren released the guard.

“My Lord, I’m sorry. I should’ve summoned you.” The guard knelt down.

“Rise. I respect your intentions to honor me.” Michael tapped him on the shoulder, motioning for him to stand. “Garren and I need to speak in private. I’ll come for you once we’re finished.” The guard bowed again, then pulled a silver key from his pocket and handed it to Michael.

Left alone, Michael turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Garren had reclaimed his seat.