The Archon's Apprentice (32 page)

Mikol would not fall in to the trap of believing Omoni was doing anything but torturing him. Forcing himself to stare at the mangled face in front of him, he was able to see the monster that Omoni had always been. As bile rose in his throat he turned away. He then noticed the stain on the floor. This was the same cell the emissary had been in. He wondered if this cell had a special meaning to Omoni or if it was just convenient.

“There is still much to prepare. You should make yourself comfortable.” Omoni eyed the slab. “Well, if you can. You will be happy to know that the army you had feared has already disbanded. Well, what was left of it.”

Mikol looked directly at Omoni now.

“How long have I been here?”

“Oh, so now you talk. You have been here fifteen days.” Footsteps approached the cell. “Maybe some company will help you understand what it is we want.”

Turos stepped into the light outside of the cell door. A slight smile started to form on Mikol’s face until Omoni’s words sank in. Turos stood in the door and twirled his cane. His usual garish clothing had been replaced by Sibilovan soldier clothing. He stepped inside the cell and leaned against the wall.

“Hello brother. I hope you’re doing well. Better than our big brothers at least.”

Turos and Omoni chuckled together. Omoni shook his head as if a child had made a naughty joke.

“Sorry about my clothing. I just came back from starting a civil war. But I wanted to see you as soon as I could. It truly pains me to see you like this. Why do you continue to refuse us?”

“How long have you been working for Omoni?”

“Working for? No, my brother, you have this all wrong. We are working together for all of Anglantaea. The Ternian disease has been a blight on all of the kingdoms of Anglataea for a millennia. All the kings have grown complacent with their places in the world, thinking they were better than everyone else. Raifaran was no different, though I suppose he was quite a bit more drunk. We have purged the world of those who would force the world to ruin, and we will make a new empire that spans time itself.”

“Is that why Omoni told me he was going to make his own kingdom?”

“I will only tolerate you for so long.”

Omoni slapped Mikol across the face, but he kept his gaze on Turos. Something flickered in Turos’s expression, but it happened so fast Mikol was not sure whether he had imagined it. Omoni looked at Mikol curiously but seemed to dismiss him again.

“Turos, has there been any progress with the Sanctuary?”

Mikol could not get a read on his brother. Turos continued to look to look at Mikol as he talked with Omoni.

“No. Not yet. After the army disbanded I sent the remaining mages there as reinforcements. We have’t been able to break in yet. We will most likely have to wait them out. They will have to choose between starvation or joining us.” Turos cracked his knuckles one at a time. “And have you figured out the magical equation? Do we need the runic magic?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I found the tome in Voletain’s quarters. I’m not sure who wrote the tome but it is quite detailed in its instructions.”

“That’s great news. Do you think there is something besides my brother that can give us the runic power back?”

“Probably. Though it will take some time to figure that out. It will be much faster if we are able to get it from him.” Omoni jerked his head towards Mikol. “But I think I shall look through some older texts to find more ancient torture techniques. I am amazed at what Voletain kept secret from the rest of us.”

“That is great news then.”

Omoni nodded and turned to leave. As Omoni walked to the door, Turos snapped his fingers. Omoni turned back questioningly. Turos smiled at him. Omoni snorted and shook his head. A shadow crossed in front of the door and Omoni stopped. When the tip of a blade exited Omoni’s back, Mikol jumped back. The blade was lifted up, twisted and then removed just as quickly. Omoni’s lifeless body fell to the floor.

“Now that I know where to find what I need, we don’t need him any longer,” said Turos.

Mikol stared at the weapon that had killed Omoni. It was Raythrael. When he looked at who had wielded the blade he gasped and stood up. It was Arceri. He waited for Arceri to finish the job and kill Turos. Or release him. Or do something. He did not move.
 

Instead, Arceri did not look at him. He stood perfectly still. Turos motioned for Arceri to move. To Mikol’s surprise, Arceri moved out of the cell. His movements were odd. Stiff, not fluid.

“Come, Mikol.” Turos gestured out of the cell. “I have another method of getting what I want.”

Mikol straightened his clothes as best he could. Turos watched him with an amused smile. When Mikol stepped outside, all his hopes were dashed as he saw what had become of Arceri. Deep lacerations covered many of the exposed areas of Arceri’s body. The worst was across his neck. This was a lethal wound by itself. Dried blood stained the wounds. This thing next to him was no longer his brother but a walking corpse.

Chapter 23

Tournament

“I see you are admiring Omoni’s greatest creation,” said Turos. “It takes an incredible amount of magic to keep him from falling apart. There were even a few willing sacrifices when he was made. How I hate how much this man was loved.”

Turos stabbed Arceri in the chest with his knife like he was playfully punching someone. Arceri did not react and the knife did not draw blood. Turos sighed and motioned for them to follow. Mikol hesitated until he was forced to move when Arceri grabbed his arm. When they exited the dungeons, Mikol noticed that the castle was no longer empty. Servants rushed through the hallways unhindered. A few looked up at Mikol as he passed but quickly averted their eyes. Otherwise, no one paid them any attention. When they passed the guards, they too averted looking at Mikol.
 

When they finally stopped at the Raven Courtyard, Mikol guessed the long walk around the castle was to show him who was in charge. The courtyard was almost completely full, with people sitting around the large open ring in the center. The posted guards were in full battle gear.

“The last tournament had to be canceled. I find this upsetting. You never had a chance to show how good you are. I have always enjoyed watching you fight. Though I always wanted you to lose. I thought it would be nice to give you a chance to fight. You will fail, of course, but you will be able to try.”

Arceri threw Mikol to the center of the courtyard. He fell on top of a sword that had been tossed in by one of the guards. He picked it up and found the edge had been dulled and the end blunted.

“I find myself in a generous mood. I will give you one more chance to give me what I want, Mikol. I offer this to you as a brother.”

“You’ve never cared for any of your brothers. Look at what you do to him.”

“Arceri? He didn’t die by my hand, though I wish he had. No, I paid for his body to be returned. It cost quite a bit. He killed nearly all of the mages that were sent to kill him. They wanted to burn the body to cinders.”

Turos walked around Mikol while he talked. Those he walked in front of in the benches tensed as Turos passed. It seemed the guards were not only here for Mikol.

“I will grant you a favor if you give me what I want. I know how to remove the rune that was placed on your arm.”

“Omoni said it was permanent. There is no way to remove it from my body.”

“To be truthful, there is no way to remove it. It is a permanent blood rune. But we can alter it to be useless. It would require some disfigurement to the arm, but we can try to pretty it up for you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then we get some entertainment! You will fight.”

Turos stepped back, raising his hands to the crowd. The response was lackluster until Turos turned his gaze on everyone in attendance. The cheers were still not enthusiastic, and despair was palpable.

“I had hoped you would refuse. I want you to give me the runic power, but if you will not then I will settle for this. You know, I never truly hated you. You were never a threat to me. But you should suffer just like everyone else for what was taken from me.”

“What was taken? You’ve had an easy life. What could have been so bad to betray your whole family?”

“I was denied my birthright!”

“Your birthright? What? To be king? You were born third in line for the throne!”

“No! Not king. Power. Immortality! Whether King or Archon, it is all the same. Voletain passed me over because he saw something dark in me. Or so he said. But he was the dark one. Hoarding his power. Wasting years trying to find a suitable apprentice, when I was right there ready to take the mantle.”

“You’ve spent too much time with Omoni. Voletain was not a dark one. Look at what has been done to Ternia. Look at how he betrayed his allies. He killed the very man that helped him rise to power.”

“Enough talking! You’ve always played with swords instead of wanting real power. Now is your chance to show you are worth something. Either tell me how to get the runic power or die fighting!”

Turos moved to the side of the courtyard. He raised his hands and the crowd became silent. He dropped his hands and yelled, “Fight!” Arceri rushed at Mikol. Arceri still wielded Raythrael and he brought it down almost faster than Mikol could block. Even though the blade Mikol had was dull, it did not break with the impact. Mikol would not have guessed Arceri’s body had as much power or speed as it did. He was being pushed backward with each attack.

Mikol had never lost a fight. He had come close a few times because of hubris. In one of his first tournament fights, his opponent was almost three times his size. The man had relied on strength to carry him in the tournament. There was no style or form to the man’s attacks. Mikol had thought he could win with practiced moves and precise attacks. After losing six of the seven points to the man in the first minute he quickly realized there was more to skill and practice. He took a moment to understand his opponent and saw a way to turn the man’s strength against him. He knew he had to do the same thing now. But with an undead corpse focused on killing him, he did not think there would be an opening he could exploit.
 

Swing after swing, blow after blow, Arceri did not stop coming. Mikol was able to land a few blows on Arceri but the dull edge did not cut. His strikes had been hard enough that any normal man would have faltered. Arceri showed no signs that he had been hit.
 

Mikol had already lost track of time. He knew he could not continue to fight endlessly and was already feeling exhausted. The last time Mikol had seen Arceri, they said they would spar again. This time there were no rune blades or armor to protect him. If Raythrael cut him it would be real and lethal. The thought of Arceri using Raythrael was ironic. Turos wanted to know how to regain the power but had given the means to that power to a construct that would be destroyed with a thought if Mikol wielded it.
 

Suddenly, Mikol had an idea. He could not exploit Arceri’s strength because there was nothing thinking within the body. But he could exploit Turos’s ignorance. Mikol dodged away from another attack. Mikol could already understand a pattern in the way Arceri attacked. He was able to make Arceri perform specific attacks depending on how he defended. He took a moment in the chaos of the fight to calm himself and build the courage to do what he needed to do. Seeing his opening, Mikol sidestepped Arceri’s overhanded chopping attack. Instead of attacking back or getting further out of the way, Mikol brought his left arm up to meet the blade. He willed for Raythrael to destroy the blood rune on his body. When the blade connected there was a blast of power and searing pain as the blade sliced through his arm.
 

 
The small explosion caused both of them to be flung backwards. They both dropped their weapons. Mikol immediately felt the flow of magic return. Raythrael had eradicated the rune. The courtyard was deadly silent. When Mikol stood up he heard gasps and screams from those watching. No one moved, not even the guards. Turos stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Mikol almost fell over from the pain and loss of blood from his arm. He drew himself up and retrieved Raythrael. The blade was instantly wreathed in flames. He took a few more steps to where Arceri’s body lay. He could take no chances.

“I am sorry it came to this, brother. May the Archon take your soul and find peace,” said Mikol.

Mikol plunged the flaming sword into Arceri’s chest. The fire spread quickly to consume the whole body. With the sword still alight, Mikol touched the flat of the blade to his arm, cauterizing the wound. This amount of pain was excruciating, and he knew without the help of his runes he would have fallen unconscious. The magic that had held Arceri together had also seemed to keep the body dry. When Mikol looked back at Arceri, he was mostly ash.
 

Mikol turned to Turos, pointing Raythrael at him.
 

“You wanted to talk, brother?”

“You are still nothing, brother. Guards, seize him!”

Mikol smiled at Turos. He had seen Turos acting this way many times before. Always wanting something he could not have. Always blaming people for his shortcomings. Whenever he was confronted he would always try to spin it away from him. Turos took a step back as the guards took a step toward the courtyard. The guards looked between each other and from Mikol to Turos.

“Hear me now. You know me. I am Mikol Elderson. I am the son of Raifaran Elderson. I have been anointed by the Archon Voletain to ascend to Archon after he died. The Archon is dead. The king is dead. As the Archon of Anglantaea, I am declaring myself King. All who follow me now shall be forgiven any past transgressions.”
 

All of the guards stopped moving. They continued to look between Turos and Mikol. Slowly, they lowered their weapons and faced Mikol.
 

“It is high treason to use blood magic in this realm. That man,” Mikol pointed Raythrael again at Turos, “has used blood magic to taint the soul of Arceri, who would have been king. That traitor is no longer my brother and is hereby exiled from Ternia.”