Mortal gods, p.81
Mortal Gods, page 81
“A midnight stroll I see.” Lord Bertoos said distastefully. “And here was me coming to reconcile the peace, and yet, you are nowhere to be found.”
The Lord was flanked by a knight in full plate and mail with a full serpents head helm and a flowing dark green cape. Ange edged forward as though she meant to speak, but the scathing look from her father sent her eyes plummeting to the floor. She had regressed into the withering shell of fear Adrian met her the first time.
“I asked Ange to walk with me around the gardens.” Adrian lied.
The Lord was sceptical, his face screwed and sour. Adrian could have punched him a thousand times over to make his face stay like that, just for all he had seen and all he had felt seeing it. The urge was real, but he controlled himself.
“Angelik, see yourself back to your chambers. I will see you soon.” Lord Bertoos said ominously. The young girl dared not protest, instead she stalked off back through the service stairs and out of sight.
“Come, let me escort you back to your chambers, Adrian.” His words were kind, but they were coated in a disingenuous bile.
The perfect red carpet that ran through the centre of the hallway made Adrian’s feet slide around his soft shoes again. But this time, that made him uneasy. He would need all the agility he could muster if he were to thwart any foolish plan the Lord and this brutish knight.
“My hospitality has been most kind Adrian. You have eaten my food and drunk my wine. Do not defile it with improper acts with my daughter.” He warned.
“Wouldn’t you consider striking her improper?” Adrian said back calmly, trusting his words were bite enough.
“Ill-discipline and none conformity are the birth of mutiny.” He growled with a callous smile. “When lessons are to be taught, I will teach them. Take my first love here. Kalisa.” Lord Bertoos stopped in front of the portrait of a beautiful women with the long flowing brown hair and hazel eyes. “Look at how beautiful my lady was. The warmth in her eyes, oh and that smile! But treachery in her heart!”
“Is she –”
“I gave commands. Her smiles stopped.” He said coldly. “You see Adrian, there is a certain order to life that must be followed. An order which leaves no one in doubt as to their place. Make no mistake, I know what horrors await us all. I have seen the Rotters and their diseases, I know the Black King rises again. But know this. I do not care.” The urge to belt this bald little turd of a Lord rose in Adrian once more, but the gleam of the dark green polished serpent’s head that stood just a few feet away made him reconsider. “I will happily let this city crumble under the Black King’s boot than let it be known that Lord Farren Bertoos was any man’s fool!”
“What’re you talking about?” Adrian blurted out.
“Legacy!” He snapped. “When a man is gone, all he has left is his legacy!”
“And what’s your legacy, Farren? A tyrant Lord who murdered dissenters and casts his own people through the Western Gates to die? Is it because they’re inconvenient to look at?!” Adrian snapped. He stepped forward forgetting himself for a moment and the knight in the serpent head grabbed Adrian by the throat and thrust him against the wall roughly, driving the wind from his lungs. The rage built in him and he reached for his power. Adrian counted backwards in his head from ten. He would kill this man if he didn’t unhand him.
“Ah, I have not properly introduced you to the Serpants Head? Meh, no need now, you seem acquainted.” Bertoos sprung quickly to Adrian, and grabbed his face. He could feel the Lord’s breath as he growled from inches away.
Ten… Nine.
“My legacy will be my strength! I will save this Kingdom and all of Thaurel from the whims of a child, and the people will know it was Lord Bertoos, and not they weak minded King who delivered them from peril!” Lord Bertoos hissed. The Serpents Head turned to him and Lord Betoos’ face softened.
Six… Five… Four
“I know what you have seen, my daughter will answer for that. But let me tell you this, I know my importance to the Kingdom! I know the boy King needs my men and banners for this impending dance with the devil!”
The hand around Adrian’s throat loosened slightly, letting in just the smallest amount of air.
Three…Two. Adrian reached deeper for flames and felt his temperature rise.
“He will have them, provided what is secret, may never be spoken. Do you understand?” He tapped the knight’s shoulder and the vice like grip was released. Adrian sank down to the floor, half on the rough stone and half across the red carpet. “I have no desire to take this kingdom from the King, just yet, but if you force my hand, I will not hesitate to turn my army on you and your King.”
Adrian was a bubbling melt of fury, but there was a voice inside him pleading for restraint. Every fibre of his being wanted to explode in a fury of flames and cook his little bald head, but he held it in, barely. Adrian nodded shortly, and let his eyes fall to the floor.
Live to fight another day.
“Good. I am sure you can find your own way back to your chambers from here.” He said beckoning Serpents head. Adrian listened to the sounds of their footsteps grow quieter before he moved again. That was not born of fear, but of mistrust. He didn’t trust himself not to relent to his brewing anger. When his chin unhooked from his chest, his eyes trailed up to meet those of Kalisa. The Lord was right, her eyes were warm. They looked at Adrian with sympathy and hope in the same breath. Adrian knew she was dead, most likely by the hands of that brute who almost popped Adrian’s head off just now. The Lord was more than he first anticipated and if he didn’t want to end up like the fair lady in the portrait, Adrian was going to have to be careful, very careful. At least until the King arrived.
Chapter 39
The Scorched Knight
Adrian
There were precious few times in Adrian’s new life where he met the gentle embrace of a good night’s sleep. The closest he had come recently was a gently mishap where he caught flames. He longed for the calming soothe of his brain shutting off for a few hours, casting the grim realities of the Black King and his accompaniments to darkened corners. But for now, it wasn’t the Black King and all his natural horrors that kept his eyes from closing. It was Lord Bertoos and the Serpents Head,
Adrian’s neck had grown red and raw, where the man in the helm tried to pop off his head, but not as red and raw as his eyes were. He sat on the floor, with his back against the foot of the high risen bed, never letting his weary gaze wander from the door. Ange had warned him that the Keep was practically deserted at his arrival, so every misheard footstep that tip-toed across the corridors perked his ear. The curtains were undrawn, the bed still made to its pristine best, and the fire place lay dormant in a bundle of cold ashes. The only change to the room from the previous night was Adrian. He had ripped the green doublet from his body and discarded it across the room, landing it in the bath tub in the corner. Replaced with the ragged, stained shirt that Eldith had given him, it was a defiance born of anger. No matter how small the gesture, it felt like it gave Adrian a measure of power back.
The sunlight crawled through the window and up Adrian’s body, warming his skin as much as it could through the bitter coldness in the room. It wasn’t until the realisation of the warmth did Adrian fully digest how long he had sat there. His attention slipped from the door momentarily and out the window. The light was just under his chin, but climbed slowly. From Adrian’s angle, all he could see was the clear air above the city and straight out over the fortified walls. It would have been easy for the young boy to carve a moment of oblivion where the woes of Kalusca were but a fallacy.
He hauled himself to his feet, feeling the ache in his back, to see the hundreds of roof tops beneath the balcony. When he opened the balcony doors, all falsehoods of the suns warmth on his skin were extinguished by the icy blast of cold air that whistled through him, shredding his skin. The sun had little power this far north. Adrian ignored the cold that seeped into his bones and stepped onto the balcony to look at the people below. They wandered through their lives, under the rule of a border line psychotic, and yet they barely knew it. No, the people who knew it were locked away in a prison, guarded twenty-four hours a day through an iron gate.
“Adrian.” Kauto called from inside the room. Adrian watched him stalk around the room before the General’s yes rested on him. “What in the name…” He ripped the blankets up from the bed and threw them around Adrian, then moved to the fire and threw a few logs on with flint and sparked a flame.
“I’m fine.” Adrian said throwing the blankets back on the bed.
“You’re blue, Adrian! Come here!” He snapped, pulling him closer to the fire. The gentle flame was barely noticeable, but it soon grew.
“What happened?” He demanded to know.
By now Adrian knew that the General could see his eyes, and if they looked as bad as they felt right now, then Adrian would have asked the same question.
“The King hasn’t arrived yet, has he?” Adrian said, but it wasn’t a question.
“No. How did you know?” Kauto said.
Adrian laughed gently, but it wasn’t through humour. The whole night Adrian spent awake, he contemplated what the true nature of Kalusca was, who its Lord was. And what he had settled on, was troubling to say the least, but he dared not share it with the General just yet.
“What?” Kauto asked.
“Everything about this place is wrong.” Adrian said distastefully. He moved to sit on the same seat that he accidentally set himself on fire upon the previous night.
“In what way?” The General asked.
“I know about the Western Gates. I know you know about the Western Gates. I know the Bertoos has tried to keep me from finding the truth about this place. I know you’ve kept it from the King.” Adrian said, meeting Kauto’s eyes. For a second there was flicker of shame and self-doubt across the older mans scarred face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a stony resolve.
“Bertoos is a bastard, but he’s a bastard who controls a third of Hyule’s armies. And a third of an army is too many to lose when a civil war breaks out between Crown and Lord. His banners are too loyal to abandon him to the judgement of the King, Adrian. I’ve known Aeon since he was a boy. I know what kind of man he is now, and the grave injustices that happen in this city would compel him to strike at Lord Bertoos and that we cannot afford, not when the Black King treatens.” The General spoke with passion, but there was also the audible crack of emotion that splashed his words. “The horrors this city has seen, he will answer for, this I promise you. But not now. Not while the Cycle is in motion.”
“I will save this Kingdom from the whims of a child…” Adrian mumbled to himself.
“What did you say? Kauto said, shuffling forward on the seat.
“That’s what he said. ‘I will save this Kingdom from the whims of a child’.”
“Farren said that?”
“Yeah. It didn’t make sense until just now.”
“The King?!” Kauto exclaimed, shooting to his feet.
He rushed from the warming chambers, leaving Adrian shivering by the flame. Adrian had blanked out the bite of the cold from his mind before, but his trance had since worn off and now it attacked at him with vengeance. An hour past before Adrian found himself pacing the room. He went to the bath tub and pulled the green doublet from it, shaking it forcefully to shift the creases. As much as it displeased him, Adrian found that it would be wiser to act as though the Lords wishes would be followed.
He pulled the cotton shirt over his head and replaced it with the half burnt jerkin. The soft cotton rubbed his burnt arm, nagging his skin, but compared to the days previous, it was nothing.
He ran through the deserted Keep, past the paintings, down the service stairs and into the kitchen. It was the only way Adrian could remember that took him to the ground floor and out into the courtyard, and if he was right, he needed to be quick. The cooks lambasted him with foul tirades of abuse that he was spared the last time he took this shortcut, because of Ange. Adrian stepped outside into the freezing cold, instantly missing that shallow burning fire that arose in his room. Even the thick woollen robes that he had given to the young girl back in the alchemists’ shack, would’ve been most welcome by now.
“General, you really should reconsider!” Lord Bertoos called from the top of the steps that led to the main doors to the Keep.
Adrian rounded the corner and saw the battalion of Knights in steel plate and mail, readying their arms and awaiting the General. He too had abandoned his green doublet and adorned his armour and long sword. He was sat atop his dark destrier at the foot of the steps, a stern look in his eye when he caught sight of Adrian.
“Raise the portcullis!” He shouted. The chains ran through the metal gears of the portcullis and echoed between the walls and the drawbridge descended.
“General Kauto!” Lord Bertoos called again.
It was a shriek that was meant to startle the ordinary man, but the General was no ordinary man. Adrian wandered into full view of the Lord, and for the first time, seen the Serpents Head stood next to him, motionless.
“I command you to remain within these walls!” The Lord finished.
Kauto glared a hole through him. The cogs behind the General’s eyes turned, speaking of all manner of vicious ways to murder the bald maggot, but the Lord seemed not to see it, or at least understand it. Instead, he wore an irritating look of outrage.
“You do not command a General of the Hyulian army!” Kauto boomed.
“General, you must allow the scouts to locate the King’s tracks before venturing out yourself!” It was a fake show of concern that even Adrian seen right through.
“You have sent four scouts and none have returned Farren. They are either dead or complicit. I don’t intend to wait around to find out which.”
“Complicit?!” Farren spat, but Kauto kicked his horse away from the steps and nodded his head at Adrian to follow.
“I am sorry to leave you here alone, but if the King faces danger, I must be by his side! Do not trust anyone within these walls. Stay safe until I return.”
There was barely time for Adrian to respond. The General kicked his armoured destrier into a gallop and across the draw bridge. After the column of some thirty Knights crossed, the bridge was raised and the portcullis lowered. Adrian was alone with the enemy now.
The days past like minutes, but it was hard to keep track from the solitude of the tower room. In truth, it felt more like a prison. He hadn’t seen or heard from the Lord, or anyone else for the matter, since the cold words shared in the courtyard the day the General set out.
“Complicit?!” Farren shouted, growing emboldened when Kauto left the courtyard of the Keep.”
Adrian watched, semi amused at the fit the Lord threw, gesturing wildly with his arms and pointing at the direction Kauto rode off in.
“Get out of my site!” He spat at Adrian, before turning back inside the wooden doors and having the Serpents Head slam them closed.
Even Ange had become a distant memory. Adrian had yet to see her since the night Lord Bertoos had his set his snake on him in the corridor. The flames crackled nicely in the fire place, warming the room and steaming the windows. The shapes that licked around in the orange glow spoke of wars and battles, but also the soothing faces of friends. In truth, the vison was in the eye of the beholder. Adrian always found that when he gazed into the fire back home in the farm house in Oraan, he would often set eyes upon the calm. Usually, after a beating from Pauper during sparring, he saw the angry battles. Right now, he saw nothing but flames. His mind was too preoccupied with so much. There was literally not enough room in his mind or time in the day to cram it all. He had toyed with the idea of fleeing the Keep into the city and seeing where his legs took him, but anyone who harboured him would surely be in danger. He even flirted with the idea of leaving the city altogether, but ever since the Cycle started again in the farmhouse, he was told to seek out the King of Hyule. Now the King was so close, but out of reach. Adrian didn’t dare think what to do if the King was dead; he needed the support of Hyule and without King Khalan, who was there to lead?
“Farren.” Adrian said to himself.
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness you know.” Ange called from the doorway.
The bruises on her face had dulled to a shallow yellow and were further covered by a slight hint of make-up blushed over her cheeks. Her dress was still ratty and brown but her walk was more purposeful and confident, like she had been when they went to the Western Gates.
“My father has requested your presence in the study.” She said.
“Are you…”
“I’m okay.” She replied quickly and smiled. Two other serving girls entered behind her, each carrying a pale of boiling water which they emptied into the bath tub. They repeated the process three times before the bath was brimming and steaming against the warm air. Ange went to the wardrobe by the bed and rummaged through the clothes within. When she was done she had produced a plain, dark grey doublet and fresh black birches.
“You should bathe and change first, it’s been quite a few days.” She remarked.
Adrian didn’t notice, but he smelled. He popped opened the buttons on the green doublet one by one, and slowly removed it, taking extra care when pulling his right arm from it.
“How is it?” She asked, stepping closer and pointing to his arm. Where the flesh had been blistered and oozing, it was now just a tender pink colour.
“I heal fast.” Adrian said. He paused as he went to undo the birches, looking at the girl, embarrassed.
“Really?” She sighed. Adrian nodded, feeling his cheeks flush and she turned her back and crossed her arms. The water burned his skin, but it was a good burn, the type that signalled a good clean. Adrian hadn’t felt comfort like this in ages.
“My father summons you to tell you some troubling news Adrian.”
