Chapter 8 - Betrayal

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The hidden hand of betrayal shapes our world more profoundly than the clearest acts of loyalty. It forges bonds in secret, only to shatter them in the light.

Book of the Immortals

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The shadows cling to me as I haul myself gasping from the tunnels and back into open air. After so long in the stifling underground darkness, the rich scents of the jungle bloom around me—earthy, alive. I stand a moment with eyes closed, breathing in the sweet air to cleanse the cloying rot from my lungs.

The noises of the island cocoon me, birds calling and leaves rustling. Peaceful. This is a paradise, one the elite of Amenion would no doubt claim for themselves. Maybe even the Sovereign. This island's beauty surpasses anything I've seen, the jungle's tranquil sounds soothing away the memory of those chilling roars from below. I must have imagined them.

Raised voices jar me from my reverie, shattering the stillness. I break into an awkward run toward the shouting, heedless of branches whipping my face. Bursting into the small clearing, my heart sinks.

There's Olly, along with Balen, Jarek, Lika, and the twins. But any fragile camaraderie between them has evaporated. Their rigid postures radiate accusation and naked fear. At my abrupt entrance, Olly spins, relief breaking across his features. Before I can react, he rushes to embrace me, his thin arms surprisingly strong.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words muffled against my dirty shoulder.

I return the hug fiercely, regret welling up inside me. "Sorry, Ols. I didn't mean to scare you."

Olly nods and steps back, but any reply dies on his lips beneath Balen's scornful bark.

"The coward returns empty-handed. Didn't find any treasures worth stealing, mongrel?" Balen's flinty eyes rake over me with unveiled contempt.

I bristle at his derisive tone but force my lie into an even murmur. "No treasures, Balen. Just more questions."

Ever the peacemaker, Olly steps between us, hands raised. "Enough. Now isn't the time for fighting." His worried gaze darts to the frayed end of a rope near Balen's feet, and my stomach clenches. "We've got bigger problems."

From his perch leaning against a nearby tree, Jarek drawls out sarcastically, "Keen observation, Olly boy. The severed rope wasn't a dead giveaway or anything."

Balen spears me with an accusatory glower, though beneath the disdain I glimpse something more raw and wounded in his eyes.

Before I can respond to Balen's silent accusation, Tomas rounds on him. "It was your captain friend who betrayed us, wasn't it?" His tone rings more resigned than accusing. "The one you bribed. Of course he turned on us. Took your coin then cut our escape." He shakes his head as if it's the only logical conclusion.

Beside him, Meli adds, "You can't trust a Sovereign lackey, Balen. We told you it was foolish to involve him."

Balen wheels on the twins instantly, massive hands clenching into fists. "You dare question my judgement? Accuse my father's best friend?" He takes a threatening step toward them, neck cords bulging. "If either of you gutless worms betrayed us, you'll wish the Sovereign's dogs got you first."

The twins exchange an uneasy glance but stand their ground. The rest of us edge away silently, wanting no part of this confrontation.

I glance around furtively, and bend close to Olly, my voice a whisper. "I found something down there."

Olly’s eyes widen. "What is it?"

I shake my head, glancing at the others. “I’ll tell you later. Not here.”

I don’t fully trust them. Especially not Balen. The big man's temper simmers dangerously, his moods shifting as quickly as the jungle winds. If he knew about my find, there's no telling how he might react.

Olly nods, understanding in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulder, hoping it conveys what I can’t say—that we're in this together, no matter what comes. But inwardly, my thoughts churn. There's too much to tell him. The glass artefact, the ancient door that inexplicably opened for me, revealing...something. The roar that came from the cavern as I left it.

As the others argue, Lika pushes her spectacles up her nose and turns an appraising look on Balen. "Explain it to us then. Tell us why you're so sure your captain didn't betray us." Though her tone holds little real hope of convincing him.

Balen's scowl deepens, but his gaze grows distant, focused somewhere we cannot see. When he finally responds, his gravelly voice comes softly.

"He’s like family. After my father... The captain looked after me when there was no one else." Now Balen's voice catches on some sharp shard of memory. He drags in a ragged breath before continuing, the words choked with old rage.

"Those Vardos animals slaughtered my father right in front of me." As Balen's haunted eyes remain locked on the past, I feel the force of his accusation land heavily upon my shoulders—a weight I'm unsure I can bear.

Understanding sinks in. His hatred for my mixed blood runs deeper than any petty bigotry. This is vengeance, a poison festering in his heart for untold years. I open my mouth to deny any part in what happened to Balen's father, to tell him I know nothing about it. But the words turn to ash on my tongue. Anything I say will only feed the inferno inside him, so I wait in silence for the storm to pass.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

In the heavy stillness Balen leaves in his wake, Olly leans close to me, voice barely above a whisper. "He's been ranting about Vardos betrayal ever since we found the cut rope. I tried calming him down, but..." Olly's narrow shoulders slump beneath his threadbare tunic.

I know he feels the failure personally. Olly is someone that who’s thinks it’s his job to make sure everyone gets along. And I left him alone to weather Balen's tempest. I gently squeeze his shoulder, hoping it conveys what I cannot say—that I don't hold him responsible for the big man's temper.

The silence sits heavy over us all. Across from me, Lika rubs a hand down her tired face before replying. "Maybe you're right about the captain once being loyal to your father, Balen. But coins or threats can turn any man, make him doubt what he holds dear. The Sovereign's influence spreads far." She sighs. "Just look at General Lorentine."

Balen spits in disgust. “I don’t need to hear it. This is all a farce.” He stands and points an accusing finger at me. “We know that little Vardos mongrel cut the rope. Why pretend otherwise?”

Anger coils hot beneath my breastbone and I rise as well. "And how can we be sure you're not the traitor, leading us into a trap?" My accusation rings out across the island. “You’re the only one who’s been in the Tower. Probably working for the Sovereign this whole time, hoping they’ll finally let you become a Sword.”

My reckless words spark unease through our group. The twins shift subtly away, hands drifting toward concealed weapons.

For a suspended moment, Balen looks ready to kill me, his massive hands clenching and unclenching. But Olly is on his feet instantly, wedging himself between us with hands raised placatingly.

"Enough. We'll get nowhere turning on each other." Olly meets my gaze sternly until I drop my eyes. He turns the same reproving look on Balen. "Kormen's got a point, though. You are the only one with a Sovereign’s class."

Letting out an explosive breath, Balen turns his scowl on each of us in turn. "Think what you want, but I'm no boot-licking Sovereign’s lapdog." He spits in disgust. "Never been in the Tower or taken their damned vows."

Balen's hand goes instinctively to the vial of essence hanging from his neck. Its turquoise glow marks the divide between us—proof he wields magic while the rest of us scrape by without.

"They can all choke on his scraps of power," Balen snarls. "I won't beg at his table like the rest of you cowards."

I blink, blindsided by this admission. All this time I'd assumed Balen was a Hammer, one of the lowest ranks in the Sovereign's rigid hierarchy. Bound by oath to the Tower and the ruler's commands.

But according to Balen, he's never sworn the vows to join their ranks. Which means...

Beside me, Olly voices the question in all our minds. "But if that's true, how are you even sane?" He leans forward intently, brow furrowed. "Without the Tower, the essence should have sent you mad by now."

I suppress a shiver. He's right. Consuming raw essence without sanction is not just forbidden—it's lethal. Like trying to swallow the sun. And that's not considering the memories. The memories of whoever the essence came from, crashing through your mind until you aren't sure who you are anymore. Only fanatics or those with nothing left to lose walk that razor's edge.

Balen's hand tightens around the vial, knuckles whitening. "You ignorant whelp. In this world, essence is power." He spits in disgust. "How have you survived this long without knowing that simple fact?"

None of us can argue his point. The glowing vials represent the divide between haves and have-nots. Those with essence are born to privilege, even the lowliest Hammer has a chance to rise through the ranks. Or at least thats what the Sovereign says. The rest of us scrape by in their shadows, digging through their trash, denied access to magic's gifts.

But Olly refuses to back down. "And what good is that power here? We're all fugitives now, on the run from the Sovereign's grasp. Or did you forget why we're stuck on this damned island?"

Balen sneers contemptuously. “Even without the Tower, I’m still worth a dozen of you essence-less Nulls."

In the heavy silence that follows, the air grows stifling. Understanding prickles across my skin. We're marooned here with a man slowly being consumed by his own power, who’s rejected the tower he needs to control it. And the Sovereign's forces could arrive any moment to collect us.

Fear whispers that the real enemy is already among us, hidden behind a familiar face. That the knife in the back will come from within. United we might have stood a chance at escape, but now...

Now this island, so full of wonder and promise, feels like a tomb waiting to swallow us whole. Around the circle, accusing looks gradually shift into silent resignation. We've played our desperate hand and lost. Whatever black powder keg of past and pain brought Balen here has doomed us alongside him. No real escape awaits us now—only a tense waiting game for the axe to fall.

None of us suggest making camp. Sleep steers clear of us, kept at bay by our anxious thoughts spinning endlessly like Vardos’ wagon wheels in sand. Who among us turned traitor? And when will the Sovereign finally come to claim the island?

Olly and I move apart from the others to keep solitary watch near the cliff's edge. The memory of climbing so eagerly up the now-severed rope just a day ago seems a lifetime away.

My thoughts keep returning obsessively what we saw in the cavern below—the immortals' society carved elegantly into dark stone. Every detail burned into my mind's eye. But nowhere was there a place for those like us—the essence-less, the Nulls. We are the gaps in the pattern, the anomalies in the grand design.

In the slums, desperation drives people to sell years of their lives just for a few more days of scrambling subsistence. While above, the powerful hoard their troves of essence, hungering to be as immortal as the Sovereigns.

Do we lack the courage to envision something different? Until recently, I’ve assumed the only way forward was to do the same. To become a Hammer, and climb the ladder with determination and hard work.

I pull the glass pyramid from my pocket, turning it over and over, fascinated by its inner glow. On impulse, I offer it to Olly.

"What do you think this is for?"

Olly's eyes widen in surprise even as he recoils slightly. His words come out in a rush. "Korm, where did you… Six, is that from the top of the pyramid? We don't know what that thing does. It could be dangerous." But curiosity shines in his gaze as he reaches tentatively for the pyramid.

I grin and press it into his palm, curling his fingers over it. "You're the genius. If anyone can figure it out, it's you."

Olly's mouth quirks as he examines the artefact, holding it up to the light. "Well, it's clearly ancient, and the craftsmanship is remarkable. The liquid reminds me of..." He turns it sideways, squinting.

He brings it close to face, and I lean in beside him. "Korm I think its essence. But maybe not like ours…”

“That impossible-” Then I choke my words off as movement catches my eye. My heart seizes. "Get down!"

The airship is just a smudge on the horizon now, but it's arrowing toward us with terrible speed. I know what we'll see as it closes the distance. The Sovereign's polished airship gleaming in the sunlight, the Crown and Sword emblazoned across its myriad of sails. Its decks will be packed with elite soldiers, bristling with impatience to run us through.

The others freeze at my warning, following my gaze. For a suspended heartbeat, no one even seems to breathe.