Traitor (21 page)

Erandur let out a deep sigh. He bowed his head slightly as though in resignation. “Then I am the biggest fool of all. I assumed that when she left us, she simply betrayed us. I thought she had run off with that human man who came here to plead for forgiveness for the sins of the traitor who took the stone.”

“Sile Derrick?”

He shot me a suspicious look. “You know him?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “He and my mother were definitely conspiring about something, and I believe that something was me. But I don’t think there was ever anything romantic between them. Sile has his own family, and it’s always been clear to me that he loves them deeply.”

“When she left with him, it tore my people apart. They lost faith in my ability to protect them. Lapiloque symbolizes the blessing of the gods upon us. It is an immense responsibility and one that we have always taken very seriously.” Erandur’s tone was still cold. His expression had become hard and fierce as he glared straight ahead. “What you see before you is all that remains of my once proud nation. Two thousand men, women, and children where once I governed hundreds of thousands throughout this land.”

I found myself at a loss for words. Looking around at the people who were dancing, laughing, and enjoying their meal … it put guilt like a heavy weight in my chest. I’d assumed that this was only one small settlement—a tiny piece of a much larger population. Hearing that this was all that remained of them was nothing short of horrifying.

“Because of the war?” I asked.

He snorted as though he wished that were the case. “Some, yes. But the jungle has devoured more than the human ranks ever could. When Paligno’s curse began to spread, many fled to your human kingdom. I assumed they had found refuge there.”

I was starting to feel sick. Refuge? No. They’d found a new form of hell. They’d been forced to live in squalor, starving and constantly abused by city guards. They’d been rounded up and driven to prison camps or sold as slaves. And now they were being murdered.

“The curse will only grow worse. Like with the graulers,” Araxie’s voice chimed in suddenly. She had come up behind us to eavesdrop without either of us noticing. “When the god stone is removed from its sacred resting place within the tomb, the balance is thrown off. All of nature turns upon itself violently in order to find it and restore it. That is what we call Paligno’s curse.”

“You mean like the madness? The same one that’s spreading through Maldobar now?” Jace surprised us all when he spoke up. I hadn’t even realized he was listening in.

Araxie nodded. I saw their eyes meet briefly. “Most likely. It begins with the animals. First the lesser, stupider ones go mad. Then more and more dangerous creatures will be wakened to ravage the earth until the stone is found and brought back to the tomb.”

“And where is this tomb?” I demanded.

Erandur stretched out a finger, pointing to the cavernous pit where Paligno had appeared to me. “Down the stairs into the dark, that is where you’ll find the tomb of a god’s mortal body. Paligno once walked the earth along with the other ancient gods, seeding it with all manner of life. When he died, his physical body was entombed there, although his spirit endures eternally through the god stone. It acts as a host to his essence. Lapiloque is his fleshly servant chosen to carry out his will. The two must always exist.”

It was time. Hearing that and understanding now the true purpose of my birthright, I knew I had to tell them everything. And just like with Jace, it took a long time. There was a lot to tell.

I was nervous about how this news would be received. Even so, I didn’t spare any details. I told them all about the details of my dreams and nightmares, the visions of my mother, and the gray elf warrior murdering the King of Maldobar. I told them about my encounter with the paludix turtle, and how my powers had grown steadily over the years. When it came to Sile, I tried to be as forthcoming as possible without painting him in a negative light. He obviously knew a lot about what was going on, and he’d gone to great lengths to keep me ignorant of it. But he had insisted that I come here so I could see the suffering of my mother’s people—and I made sure they knew that.

Of course, they had a few questions. Well, more than a few actually. Araxie didn’t know much about human culture, so I had to explain a few things to her—like who the king’s elite guards were. They seemed to be taking everything well, nodding and listening, until I mentioned the king’s recent decree that moved all gray elves to the prison camps. I think they understood right away that was the same thing as a death sentence.

Araxie sat back. Her face was pasty white with horror. I could see her chest rising and falling with furious breaths. At last, I guess she couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up and stormed away from us without saying a word.

I didn’t blame her at all for being upset. I wasn’t exactly happy about it, either. The King of Maldobar was committing mass genocide against people who had come to him for peaceful refuge. It was inexcusable.

But where Araxie expressed brazen rage, her father simply bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Please forgive her. She is young.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I replied. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you all. I was given this responsibility to help you, and I haven’t done anything. I’m sorry that it’s come to this. And I will do whatever I can to set things right.”

Erandur looked at me squarely—without frowning or glaring this time. For the first time, I got the impression he was actually
seeing
me. “Are you sure about that?”

I nodded firmly, although I felt he still knew something I didn’t.

“I think I can answer your questions about your dreams, Nephew.” He put his pipe back in his mouth and began puffing on it again. “I believe it’s time you learned a bit more about your relatives.”

My head was spinning, and it wasn’t from ale or wine this time—although I did feel like I needed to throw up. I left the feast early and started back toward the temple. I wanted to lie down and think things over for a while. I didn’t know what I should do, or even what I could do.

One thing was certain, however: I had to do something … because this infamous traitor they all called Hovrid was my brother.

According to Erandur, my mother had been married before, but her husband had passed away. She’d had another son, much older than I was, named Hovrid. He hadn’t been born blessed with Paligno’s power like I had. The way Erandur explained it, that wasn’t altogether abnormal. Sometimes that blessing even skipped generations. It was rare, and it wasn’t something my mother or anyone else got to choose. Only Paligno could pick the one who would be Lapiloque.

But for Hovrid, being passed over had been difficult for him to swallow. He’d harbored a lot of resentment toward my mother, who he blamed for having not been chosen. He hated her for it. He’d tried many times to reach the stone, to touch it or get a glimpse of it despite my mother’s warnings about what might happen. Touching it would drive a person to insanity. Glimpsing it, for those weaker in mind, might even have the same effect. Even I would have felt those effects if I had touched the stone before the ritual had been performed where Paligno had openly proclaimed me as his servant. No one was immune.

In the end, Hovrid driven himself mad, either from contact with the stone or from hatred and jealousy toward anyone else he deemed to be somehow superior to him.

He was sick in a way that couldn’t be cured. There’s no remedy for a wicked heart.

Erandur said that Hovrid had vanished a long time ago. They never knew where he went. And while they had tried to find him, scouring the jungle in hopes of bringing him back, other events had eclipsed the importance of his disappearance.

Namely, the theft of the god stone.

At last, the last few pieces of the puzzle were in place. The gray elf warrior from my dreams—the one who had butchered the King of Maldobar and his family—was Hovrid. He was the one who had urged my father to steal the god stone. And now, Erandur suspected he was the one ruling from Maldobar’s throne as a so-called king.

“Hovrid’s hatred for us is second only to his need to possess the god stone. If he cannot wield it, he will make sure no one else can,” Erandur had explained quietly. “We have all been deceived. We have spilt blood and destroyed countless lives warring against a false enemy.”

Those words were still ringing in my ears as I entered the atrium of the temple. Moonlight was spilling down through the opening in the ceiling. It made the large mosaic of Paligno sparkle under my feet.

“Tell me you can stop this.” A weak voice pleaded from the darkness.

It made me stop short. I turned around to see Araxie standing in a darkened corner, tears on her cheeks shining in the pale light, her expression wrathful.

“I’ve already lost a mother and three brothers to this war, Jaevid.” She started walking toward me slowly. “Likewise, I’m sure I have murdered just as many fathers, sons, and brothers from your homeland. I can’t justify it, though I want to. It has to stop. You have to return the god stone.”

That’s not all I had to do. She’d left too soon to hear her father telling me about Hovrid, but I figured she was probably already aware of who he was and that he was likely the culprit behind all this. I also suspected that she understood I would have to kill him in order to get the stone back. I doubted he would give it up easily. He’d spilt so much blood over it already, what were a few more drops?

“I will,” I promised, although I let my tone carry an edge. “But there’s something I need you to do for me.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

“Teach me to fight like the gray elves do. I’ve seen how my enemy fights in my dreams. I’m no match for him right now. You said no man has ever beaten you in combat. So if I’m going to stand any chance against Hovrid, I’m going to need your skills.”

Araxie started to grin—but it wasn’t a friendly, warm, and fuzzy kind of expression. Her eyes burned like two cold stars in the darkness. I could see eagerness brimming in every corner of her face. “That, I can do.”

“And while you’re at it, you can teach me, too.” A heavy hand fell onto my shoulder. Beside me, Jace was wearing a determined glare.

“Teach a human dog the ways of my people?” she said like it was a deeply offensive, ridiculous idea.

“He can’t do it alone. There’s going to be an army of elite guards and dragonriders between the throne room and him.” Jace shook my shoulder gruffly. “We’ll have one shot at this. We need to even up the odds.”

I hadn’t expected him to be so comfortable with a plan to assassinate a king—even if it was Hovrid in disguise. But I guess hearing that he’d spent his life in sworn servitude to an imposter was enough to turn his loyalties. Or perhaps his loyalties were shifty to begin with.

“Human men are too weak.” Araxie flashed him a dismissive glance from head to foot. “You lack predatory instincts. Many generations of drinking too much liquor have made you fat and lazy. You won’t last a day.”

Jace narrowed his eyes challengingly. “Try me.”

Dragonriders don’t generally use bows in the air. Our weapon of choice is always our dragon’s flame. Bows can be clumsy in flight, and it’s difficult to aim while accounting for wind and constantly changing direction. At least, that’s what I’d always been taught. Now some riders had an uncanny amount of skill with it—like Sile and Beckah. But I’d only handled a bow maybe ten times during my training—just enough to establish that I definitely wasn’t some kind of rare, bow-wielding prodigy.

Big surprise there.

But the next morning, Araxie started her own brutal form of training, and teaching us to work with an elven bow was the first thing on her list. There were no more flowing, showy robes in my wardrobe. Jace and I were given the same sort of garb that gray elf warriors wore under their armor. It amounted to a pair of dark pants, a sleeveless silk tunic, and a pair of vambraces that were made with wrist stabilizers.

Araxie was also wearing something similar, though her pants were split up the sides to show off her legs and her shirt was shorter and much more fitted to reveal most of her midriff. She shoved a bow and quiver into our hands first thing in the morning and began leading the way out of the village.