Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) (37 page)

BOOK: Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5)
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Amenon nodded once, sharply, his eyes dancing all over his son’s attire, inspecting it for the proper look. “Your mother and I will be there with you the entire time. As will your instructors and classmates. I know it is tremendous pressure—”

“I can’t fail you,” Terian said, with a nod. “The pressure is good. It will ensure that I complete the task set before me with utmost speed and with a skill worthy of the best of dark knights.”

Amenon nodded once more, emotion filling his features. “I could ask no more of you.” He looked toward the window. “All we need do now is wait for Guturan to let us know that all is ready, and we can go to the garden to begin.”

Terian did not speak for a moment. He tried to come up with something to say, something that would express the fear and excitement fighting among each other in his heart but failed.
This is the moment I have been waiting for all my life. For as long as I can remember. This is my moment of triumph
.
 

There was a knock at the door to the study. Precise and measured, the flutter in Terian’s stomach told him it was Guturan before his father even called out, “Enter.”

“Your guests await you both, my Lords of Lepos,” Guturan said, holding the door open with a sweeping bow.

Amenon smiled once more upon Terian, a smile of encouragement and strength, and Terian returned it. The world seemed to blur around him, and he led the way down the stairs. Each of echo of his boot on the steps felt as though it were symbolizing his rise.
I am not descending to this ceremony; I am rising to be a dark knight.

The most fearsome dark knight in the land.

Like my father before me.

When they reached the foyer, the servants swept open the doors. The smell of Saekaj’s dank air flooded in over the incense that burned in the foyer. Terian could see the guests waiting outside, chairs arranged on the lawn. He knew a dais waited outside, off to his left where he could not see it. He looked at the visible guests—nobles, dark knights of note and renown, and a few of his peers.

He cocked his head—Kahlee Ehrest sat close to the middle, next to her father. Her face was a mask, her cheek twitching as she turned, along with all the other guests, to look at his arrival.

This is my moment.

Terian paused for a single beat at the threshold of the manor house. He kept his gaze centered on the steps ahead.
I cannot trip now. I cannot look foolish at this moment. Not this moment.

This moment I have been waiting for.

When he reached the center aisle he turned, crisply, walking in a timed march that would have impressed any of his instructors from the Legion.
Discipline and duty be my guide. Whatever task I am to perform, let me carry it out with grace and alacrity worthy of my house and name
.

He was halfway up the aisle before he looked at the dais. Cidrack Urnetagroth stood waiting for him at the top of a small rise of stairs, along with another figure in a black cloak. They blocked his view of something beyond—something that looked almost like an altar.

A ritual, after all.

Terian felt his father’s hand land on his shoulder, and he paused to look back. “I can go no further with you,” Amenon said. “From here you walk the path on your own.”

Terian nodded. He had known this moment was coming. He felt his father’s hand leave his shoulder, the weight of the gauntlet carrying all the hopes and dreams that had been instilled in him since the day he had learned to walk and speak. The weight of the countless conversations that his father had had with him, telling him of his purpose and destiny.

I will not fail him.

Every step was made with leaden legs that carried him forward toward that dark destiny, toward the fearsome armor awaiting him at the completion of the ceremony. He took the stairs carefully, staying focused on Urnetagroth and the black-cloaked figure. He took a deep breath and tasted the bile from where he’d lost his breakfast from nervousness earlier.

“Come forth, Terian Lepos,” Cidrack Urnetagroth said, intoning as though he were a priest of some sort. “Come forth and face your test.”

“I am ready,” Terian said, a little stiffly. He had rehearsed this answer a thousand times, simple as it was, for this was the point that his knowledge of the soul sacrifice ceremony ended. From this moment forward, it was all a glorious exploration off the edges of the map, and the shudder of nervousness hinted at the grinding fear within him.

I cannot fail. I must not fail.

“Follow,” Cidrack said, and the black-cloaked figure moved aside as well. Terian’s eyes fell upon the altar behind them, and for the first time, he realized that there was something upon it.
I must not fail
, he repeated to himself.

Someone
upon it.

Her white hair spilled over the edges of the thin stone altar. Her mouth was sealed shut by a cloth rag stuffed into it, and her hands were bound in chains.

I must not fai-

Ameli.

Terian felt the pull and dragged himself toward her unbidden. He surged to her side and saw her wide eyes, open in fear like an animal sensing its doom. He ripped the cloth free of her mouth and stood above her, breathless and suddenly faint. “Ameli!”

“Terian!” Her cry burst free of her mouth and she struggled against the chains that bound her. “Terian, let me free—”

Cidrack brought a hand down upon her cheek that rocked her head to the side. Terian spun upon the instructor and slammed into his armored form with his shoulder unthinking. He heard a great crack followed by an agonizing pain in his arm but did not care. He took the dark knight to the ground with his clumsy charge, and felt the sharp edge of his armor cut through his tunic. He raised a fist to strike Cidrack Urnetagroth squarely in the face—

“TERIAN!” Amenon’s shout silenced everything in the vicinity. Terian froze, hand raised to slam Urnetagroth squarely in his exposed nose, the weakest point available to him, but he lowered his arm. His fingers, however, did not unclench. “This is the task before you,” his father said.

Terian dragged himself to his feet, ignoring Urnetagroth. “To do what?” It came out in a huff, emotion dripping with every hard breath. “To … to …” He dragged a finger loose of his fist and pointed at the altar. “To … her?”

Amenon stood at his place in the aisle, his eyes thin and severe. “No sacrifice is too great in the name of Sovereign.”

Terian opened his mouth, but no words came out, his jaw quivering in outrage and disgust. “Sacrifice …?” He glanced back at Ameli. “She’s a … sacrifice?”

“We are all sacrifices, if need be,” Cidrack Urnetagroth said, rising from the ground. His cheeks were flushed, and Terian gave him a glare that made the dark knight take a step backward—though out of caution or fear, Terian did not hazard a guess. “This is our place as servants of the Sovereign.”

“Terian, help me!” Ameli said. He looked back at her, still pinned to the altar. Her cheek was bleeding, her eye already swelling shut where Urnetagroth had struck her. “Please!”

I will not fail.
The words echoed in his head, mocking.

Terian stood, frozen, in the center of the altar, eyes locked on his father. “You cannot ask me to do … this.”

“Darkness requires sacrifice,” Urnetagroth said. “The Sovereign requires obedience.”

Terian glanced back at the black-cloaked figure. “Are you a healer?”

The black-cloaked figure shook his head, slowly.

“He is a necromancer,” Urnetagroth said, and Terian turned back to look at him. “There will be no resurrection from this. She is your soul sacrifice, the price you pay to embrace the darkness and rise a knight of the shadows.” He stared down with the coldest eyes Terian had ever seen.
I never noticed that about him before. How did I not notice that in the last four years?

“I don’t want to be a—” Terian cut himself off before the last word, looking back to his father. “This can’t be the price. Not everyone has a sister—”

“You are the only son of a most powerful house,” Amenon said from his place in the aisle. His face wavered, and Terian saw shame begin to peek through his facade. “More is required of you than others. Now … remember your duty.” He clenched his teeth, and Terian had a vision of dark fangs gnashing him to pieces.

Duty
.

He turned back to the altar. The necromancer stood before him, just to the side, hands extended. A dagger lay upon them. “This is the instrument of sacrifice.”

Terian stared at the black blade. He eyed it then turned slowly to Cidrack Urnetagroth.

“Any sacrifice but the one placed before you will result in your death,” Urnetagroth said warily.

Terian stared at him through lidded eyes.
Maybe I want to die.
He glanced back at his father. Saw him move his head to urge Terian forward.
My sacrifice must be greater than others?

You son of a bitch.

The crowd was hushed behind him, and Terian felt the world pull away from him. He stood upon the altar, and even Urnetagroth stepped back.

The necromancer waited, dagger in his extended hands. “Take this … and perform your duty. I will handle the rest.”

Terian stared at the dagger as though it would leap out and strike him down.

Duty
.

Finally he reached out, and took it in his hands. Dimly, he could hear Ameli sobbing.

“Terian, no … Terian, please …”

He closed his eyes, trying to block her out.

“Terian …” The rattling as she fought against her bonds nearly blotted out her pleas. The faint smell of her perfume filled his nose.

I must not fail.

The chains shook with a fury once more. “Terian! Please, Terian! Please don’t!”

He opened his eyes. Now she was still, eyes seeping quiet tears. “Please.”

He brought the dagger down straight and true, plunging it into her heart.

He felt the blade break through the bone, his hands latched hard to it. There was a gasp of her breath in shock at the strike. He could smell the faint perfume that she had worn—the sweet, sickly scent of cave cress—over the sweat and stink of fear.

There was a burning blast of light before his eyes, a flash as magic ran through the dagger and into his hands. It sounded like the crack of thunder he’d heard when he’d gone to the surface, the roar of a mighty river of blood rushing through his ears.

He looked away when he saw the light leave her eyes, the purple irises relaxing as the skin around the edges went slack. She was looking through him now, and he turned to see the necromancer holding a red gemstone in his fingers. It glowed with light, then faded to a luster.

Terian stayed there, hunched over Ameli’s form, as the sound of the roaring blood subsided, replaced by thunderous applause.

Strong hands clapped him on the back. Cidrack Urnetagroth’s hands. Still he remained folded over, the dagger still clutched in his hands. Words were coming to him now, but he could not hear them.

He did not care to hear them.

One word reverberated in his mind. It rattled in there like an uninvited guest that had long outstayed its welcome. It persisted, even through the congratulations, the calls of acclaim, the shouts that pronounced him the most promising dark knight that had ever lived.

It stayed, though, through all that, refusing to leave, that one word.

The last word that Ameli had ever spoken.

Chapter 57

“Please.”

The human girl shuddered as she spoke, her voice shaking as she shielded the dwarven children with her body.

Terian blinked. He felt as though he’d just had a spear run into his forehead by a troll at full speed. His jaw dropped slightly open, but no words came. He stared at the girl, her face lined with fear and emotion, the smell of the wood fire in the hearth harkening him back to Sanctuary for some reason.

“Please,” she said again, voice nearly a whisper.

“Terian!” Grinnd shouted from across the street. “Get a move on!”

Terian stared into the house, and felt his jaw shake trying to work. “Stay quiet until we’re gone.” He heard his voice break as he spoke. He cast a last look at the girl huddled over the children in the corner, and he grasped at the knob of the door, and pulled it shut behind him without another word.

The cold, crisp winter air bit at his cheeks, stinging his eyes along the way. He walked to the next house and kicked in the door. He shut it behind him, looking around to see if anyone was visible. He saw no one, and brought his axe across the wooden table in the middle of the room, knocking it asunder and sending the clay dishes upon it shattering to the floor.

“AGHHHHHHHHH!” he shouted, and hit the table again. He blinked then heard a gasp from under the bed. He saw a pair of eyes watching him, and held a lone finger to his lips. “Stay quiet until you’re sure we’ve left.” He retreated quietly, closing the door behind him.

He stood in the fierce wind, and saw Grinnd three houses down on the opposite side of the street, the barrel on his back bobbing as he made his way from house to house. A dog’s bark cut off in a sudden, pathetic yelp somewhere down the street, and Terian crashed through another door. This one he shut again just as quickly, without so much as acknowledging the half dozen pairs of eyes keeping watch on him.

His axe blade already dripped with blood from the battle with the dwarven men, leaving dots of red on the snow as he crossed the alley to the next house. He saw Bowe standing at the far end of the village in the direction he was heading. With a flash, flame burst from out of the druid’s hands and caught the houses at the end of town on fire.

Terian took a ragged breath, watching the flames spread up the homes. He threw himself into the next house and shut the door behind him. He barely saw the faces of the dwarves huddled before him, just as he barely saw a spear race toward him from the left.

Terian lashed out and broke the wooden implement with a swipe of his axe. The dwarf wielding it rushed close in, and Terian smacked him in the forehead with the palm of his gauntlet, knocking the small man back. “Sit down and shut up,” he said softly. He turned back to the eyes of the children watching him. “Be silent until you’re sure we’ve all left.” He saw the disarmed dwarf look up at him, but his eyes were glazed and he saw no details of the face. “Be quiet as though your life depended upon it—because it does.”

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