The Reborn King (Book Six) Page 28

  Orias glared furiously at his father for a full minute before speaking. “Then if you have nothing more to tell me, I will go.”

  “There is one thing,” said Morzahn. “Tell your mother that I am sorry we never got to walk the beaches of Skalhalis again. And that I love her.”

  “Is that all?” he asked. Though tears were streaming down his cheeks, his voice was steady.

  “Yes.” Morzahn lowered his head. “That is all.”

  “Then we are done.” Orias gave a sharp nod and walked smartly to the door. Just before opening it, he paused to glance back. “I’ll smile when you hang. I wanted you to know that.”

  Morzahn said nothing, nor did he look up.

  The two agents looked highly displeased when the two boys returned.

  “That didn’t take long,” said the man. “You should have pressed him harder. I knew it was a bad idea to send a child in with him.”

  “You would have done no better,” the woman scolded. “So stop being an ass.” She turned to Aremiel. “Did you glean anything from his words?”

  “He may not have,” Orias cut in quickly. “But I did.” He started toward the stairs.

  “And where do you think you’re going,” said the man.

  “To see the High Lady,” he replied.

  Orias sped from the room and up the stairs so rapidly that Aremiel found himself struggling to keep up. But instead of taking the left hall leading to his mother’s chambers, he took a right and then motioned for Aremiel to follow him into a rarely used storage closet.

  “I wanted to speak to you alone before we see your mother,” he whispered. He looked outside to check that they weren’t being followed. When satisfied, he closed the door. “My father mentioned Skalhalis. He said to tell my mother he wished they could walk again on its beaches.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So they have never been there together,” he explained. “He’s trying to send her a message.”

  Aremiel thought for a moment. “Are you going to tell this to my mother?”

  “No. But the agents were certainly listening in. If they picked up on what he said and thought it worth noting, they would go straight to the High Lady. I don’t want my father involving my mother if I can prevent it.”

  Aremiel didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but knew that he must. “How do you know she’s not involved?”

  “I don’t,” he admitted. “But she will certainly come here after word of all this reaches Baltria. I will speak to her first.”

  “And if she is involved?”

  His face tightened. “Then I will lose two parents.” He grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “I need you to keep quiet about this until I can speak with her. Will you do that?”

  Aremiel nodded slowly. Even though he felt this was something that his mother should know, he could understand why Orias would want to wait.

  “Thank you,” Orias said. He cracked open the door. “Come on. Let's go see the High Lady.”

  When they arrived she was talking with Dresher at her desk.

  She motioned for them both to sit. “So, have you said all that you needed to say?”

  “Yes, High Lady,” replied Orias. “And he doesn’t know where the sword is. He wants you to think that he might…but he doesn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, High Lady. I’m sure.”

  She studied him for a moment. “As your father has confessed and there is no doubt of his guilt, his execution will not be delayed. If you would like, I can send you away with Dresher until it’s over.”

  “If my father is a traitor, I would see him hanged. There is no reason to send me away.”

  The High Lady frowned. “Naturally, it is your right to be here. But I urge you to reconsider. This is not something you want to see.”

  “Begging your pardon, but it is.”

  She sighed and rose to her feet. “Very well. You have two days to change your mind. In the meantime, stay with Dresher. I’m sure there is much you can learn from him.”

  Both Orias and Aremiel stood as well.

  “Stay here, son,” she said.

  Orias gave his friend a nod and then left with the knight.

  His mother sat back down. “There is more. Isn’t there?”

  Aremiel plopped heavily back into his seat and remained silent for a long moment. His mother could always see through him. He desperately wanted to tell her what Orias has said. But the thought of betraying his best friend repulsed him.

  “You can tell me, son,” she assured. “Orias is confused right now. He may not show it, but seeing his father has wounded him. He cannot possibly know what the right thing to do is.” Her smile was tender and compassionate. “I know you don’t want to betray his trust. But this is important. If he withholds information, it could end his chances of becoming a knight. So if you truly want to help him, you must tell me what you know.”

  “If I tell you,” he said. “You must swear to keep it to yourself.”

  His mother shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make that promise. If there is a danger to the temple, I must act.”

  “There is no danger,” he promised. “You have to trust me on that.”

  “I do trust your intentions, son,” she said. “But you are still too young to understand certain things.”

  Steadying his resolve, he sat up straight. “Either you swear, or I won’t tell you.”

  The two locked eyes. Finally, it was the High Lady who relented. With an exasperated sigh, she lowered her head.

  “Very well,” she said. “I swear.”

  Satisfied, Aremiel conveyed what Orias had told him.

  “Then I see no harm done,” she remarked, speaking as much to herself as to her son. “Word has already been sent to his mother this morning. And as it will take a few weeks for her to arrive here, I suppose there is nothing to do but wait.”

  There was a knock at the door. A moment later the old woman from the cellar entered.

  “I beg your pardon, High Lady,” she said. “But there are matters we should go over.”

  The High Lady nodded. “Of course.”

  Aremiel got up and embraced his mother firmly. “Thank you.”

  She kissed his cheek and watched him leave.

  Being that the execution was scheduled in two days, the builders began erecting the gallows at once. Laraad, who was helping in their construction, made a special point of smiling broadly at Orias every time they saw each another.

  Orias, however, appeared unconcerned by his taunting. Most of his and Aremiel's time was spent with Dresher. The knight had ridden with Morzahn on many assignments and knew him well. At first, Aremiel thought it rude when he spoke of the man so casually in front of Orias.

  “Morzahn was not always as he is now,” Dresher explained. “His crimes will cost him his life. But he did many great deeds before his fall. There are hundreds, if not thousands of people who owe their lives to the courage of Morzahn. And I would have his only son know of that.”

  As it turned out, Orias seemed glad to hear Dresher's stories, and even asked questions about certain details.

  When the day arrived, Aremiel expected to see Orias’ demeanor change. But instead, he was as cheerful as he had ever been. They ate their morning meal and afterward made their way to the courtyard. By the time they got there it was filled nearly to capacity.

  The High Lady was standing beside Dresher atop the gallows, with six knights guarding the pathway leading from the main building. Each one wore a black cloak with the hood pulled over his head.

  Aremiel scanned the crowd. Laraad and a few others were perched atop the ramparts, laughing and talking as if they were at a fair rather than an execution. He had never hated the boy more than at that moment.

  They pushed their way through the throngs of people until arriving directly in front of the gallows. Murmurs and whispers could be heard as eyes fell on Orias. But he ignored them all and simply stood there, stone-faced and sil
ent.

  When the temple doors swung open, a hush fell over the crowd. Out walked Morzahn, closely escorted by a knight on either side. They slowly led him to the foot of the gallows and up the steps. Dresher looked him in the eye for a second, then turned away to position himself beside the trapdoor release lever.

  “I’m glad it’s you, old friend,” Morzahn told him.

  Dresher simply nodded.

  The High Lady stepped forward. “You have been brought here to answer for the crimes of murder and treason. Through your own admission you have been found guilty. And as you have offered up no cause for leniency, you are hereby sentenced to death. Do you have any final words you wish to say?”

  Morzahn looked out on the crowd until he spotted Orias. His voice carried clearly. “I should have told you this when we spoke before…I love you son. No matter what I’ve done, always remember that.”

  Aremiel expected tears, but instead Orias reacted by quickly climbing atop the gallows and placing his hand just above Dresher’s on the release lever.

  Gasps of both wonder and revulsion reverberated through the crowd. The High Lady simply looked on in amazement.

  Morzahn nodded and huffed a quiet laugh. “I should have expected this. But it doesn’t matter. My heart is still with you son…even if yours has abandoned me.” He looked at the High Lady. “Let’s get on with it.”

  Tearing her eyes away from Orias, she stepped in front of the condemned man and secured the noose tightly around his neck. “Are you prepared to answer for your crimes?” she asked.

  “Prepared?” He let out a disdainful laugh. “I’m eager.”

  She turned to the crowd. “Then let justice be done.” After a brief sideways glance at Orias, she descended the stairs.

  Time stood still as everyone waited. There was total silence. Orias then looked up at Dresher and nodded.

  In unison, they pulled the lever.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks had passed since the execution of Morzahn. Though Aremiel was concerned about his friend, he seemed to be carrying on with his business as if nothing had happened. He'd tried talking to him about it on a few occasions, but Orias just laughed and slapped him on the back.

  “I’m fine, you old mother hen,” he would say. “Worry about your sword practice instead.”

  It was just after their evening meal when Orias was called to the High Lady’s office. When he returned to their sleeping quarters later, Aremiel could see that all the color had drained from his face and his eyes were distant, as if in a trance.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  For a moment Orias said nothing. Then he pulled a parchment from his pocket and handed it over.

  Aremiel opened it apprehensively, dreading to see what was inside. After reading, he placed the parchment on the nightstand and touched Orias’ shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “The High Lady said that they found her lying in her bed,” Orias whispered. “Her throat had been cut and her house ransacked. A robbery they said.” He looked up at Aremiel, tears flowing freely. “A bloody robbery.”

  A terrible thought occurred to Aremiel. Could his mother have ordered this done? He quickly dismissed the idea. She would never do such a thing. That much he knew for a fact.

  “Now I’m truly alone,” Orias sobbed.

  “You’ll never be alone,” said Aremiel. “Not as long as I live. I swear it.”

  Orias reached out and embraced his best friend, desperate for comfort.

  As they stood there locked together, Aremiel once again swore his oath to always be there for Orias…though this time it was just as much a prayer as a promise.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The road from the Northern Steppes – 40 years earlier

  After reining in their horses to a slow trot, Aremiel looked over his shoulder. His face was twisted in anger.

  Orias laughed boisterously. “Stop worrying. We lost them.”

  “We would never have needed to lose them if you would just obey orders,” Aremiel snapped.

  “Your mother warned you not to make me your lieutenant,” he replied, still laughing. “She said I would be nothing but trouble.”

  He glared at Orias. “And she was right.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know why they’re so upset,” Orias said, feigning innocence. “It was only a pair of horses.”

  “We were there to negotiate with the men of the Steppes in order to buy horses. We were not there to steal them.”

  “I was intending to leave some gold.”

  Aremiel snorted. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

  “Well, anyway…it’s a good thing they aren’t smart as their mounts.” He gave his friend a devilish grin. “Otherwise they’d have caught us, and I might have to save your skin again.”

  Just then, both men caught the sound of distant hoof beats. They halted their horses and continued listening, but the sound slowly faded away.

  Orias burst into another round of laughter. In spite of himself, Aremiel could not help but join in with him.

  “Next time, at least try to tell me before you do something stupid,” he said, shaking his head, though unable to wipe away a broad grin.

  “I’ll try,” Orias replied. “But sadly, I rarely know that it’s stupid until after the deed is done.”

  They rode on until reaching a small village on the borders of the Steppes. It was little more than a trading post, but Amon Dähl had agents there. And that meant decent food and a warm bed.

  They both felt a tingling in their medallions telling them that a member of the order was nearby, though identifying who that was, might prove to be difficult. If it was a knight, it would have been easy. Even without the charm, they would be able to recognize him simply by the way he moved. But agents were another matter. They were trained to blend in and pass unnoticed.

  Orias spotted the village's solitary inn and spurred his horse toward it. “At least we can have a drink while we wait. The gods only know how long we’ll have to sit there. Bloody agents.”

  Aremiel shared Orias’ dislike of agents. “I should have found out who was assigned here before we left. At least we would know who we’re looking for.”

  “Hey! Did I just hear Captain Aremiel admit that he did something wrong?”

  Aremiel smirked. “Of course not. Just like I didn’t hear Lieutenant Orias making fun of his commander.”

  In truth, it should have been the other way around. Both of them knew that it was only Orias' propensity for making trouble that had prevented him from being made Aremiel's superior officer. His high spirits had got him into more than his fair share of scrapes. Even so, there was no denying that he was the finest swordsman in the Order. He also had a keen intellect and an uncanny sense for when danger was near. Several knights owed their lives to him…and Aremiel was one of them.

  But of all Orias' virtues, his kindness was by far his greatest. And the one that held him back the most. Knights of Amon Dähl were not expected to involve themselves in local disputes or politics. But if his friend saw an injustice, he was compelled to act. Though Aremiel admired him for this trait, it frequently caused their superiors to question Orias' ability to lead.

  When Aremiel was promoted to Captain, he'd insisted on having Orias as his Lieutenant. No one was pleased by this decision, least of all his mother. She feared Orias’ recklessness would eventually get him killed, and that their close friendship would have her only son lying dead beside him.

  He had often pleaded with Orias to behave less impulsively, but he would only smile and say it was the will of the gods that drove him to act in such a way. At first Aremiel thought this was just a joke. But over time he realized it wasn’t. Orias truly believed he could feel their will, and that they had a special purpose for him.

  After tying up their horses, they stepped inside the inn. The place was typical for a town such as this. Just a few tables surrounding an iron stove in the center of the common room, and
a small bar to the right.

  “Order us a bottle of wine,” Orias said. “I’m going to check out the area.”

  Before Aremiel could object, Orias was gone. Check out the area, he thought. You’re going to find another shrine. It was the same in every town they visited. Orias would very soon locate a local shrine or temple to pray at, though he tried hard to hide this fact. His cavalier attitude and lighthearted ways were a surprising contrast to his deeply held faith. He was by no means a monk or priest, but he was equally as dedicated.

  Aremiel thought to join him from time to time, but knew it would likely embarrass his friend. In any case, though he loved the gods as much as anyone, he never could really see the point of prayer. Such beings were probably far more concerned with larger issues. The life of a single knight couldn’t possibly matter much to them.

  The inn door opened to reveal a swarthy man in dingy clothes. He came over and sat down.

  “I’m Vurin,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you. When you’re ready, my house is nearby.”

  “I’m Aremiel,” he replied, nodding politely. “My friend Orias will return very soon.”

  “I saw him in the street,” Vurin told him. “He’s already there.”

  There was a note of urgency in the man’s voice that disturbed him. They left the inn immediately and went to a small hovel at the end of the main avenue.

  The interior was far more accommodating than the dilapidated exterior suggested. Four comfortable beds were at the rear, and a hearth was burning brightly to the left. The floor was covered by a plain yet well-made rug, and the walls were lined with bookshelves filled to capacity with dozens of leather bound volumes.

  Orias was sitting at a wooden dining table near the stove, a bottle of wine gripped firmly in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other.

  “I see you couldn’t wait for us to return,” scolded Vurin.

  Orias ignored the agent. Grinning boyishly, he tossed the parchment to Aremiel.

  “Can you believe it?” he said. “We've made the list of prospects.”

  Aremiel read the message carefully. Both men then simultaneously burst into laughter.