Chapter 22

The great brass lamps dangling from the storehouse ceiling had been ignited and the cavernous hall was bathed in light. The flames burned fiercely banishing the darkness but the horrors of the fighting were then laid bare. Lord Theron’s men had arranged the corpses in a neat row but when Arios had looked upon their bodies he had wept.

They were grotesque. Drenched in blood, many missing limbs, anguished screams etched into their faces frozen in their dying throes. This was the work of Captain Darios and what work it was. They had stood no chance before him. Outclassed, outmatched, they were no soldiers. The light revealed that most were not even men.

They were frail things, no older than Arios himself, not like to have been well-fed even before the siege. Their skin stretched thin over bruised purple flesh. They were not Kyrithon.

“They killed five of my men…I did not think they would be so young…”

It was Darios. He stood away from the soldiers and the bodies, speaking in hushed words with Lord Theron.

“You could not have known Captain,” drawled Theron, “and better that you did not, it needed doing regardless.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “It was the only way.”

The captain’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head, “Sir, I do not wish to see this city fall as my own did…I must make a difference…I must—”

“—You will captain. As long as you follow my commands.”

“Yes…Sir…”

“Now captain, where is the boy? Arios?”

Arios stepped toward them, raising his voice, “I am here milord, how may I be of service?” As he grew closer, Darios turned to meet him. The captain’s eyes were bloodshot, his face wet.

“Arios I—”

“—There you are boy!” Theron smiled. It did not suit him. His face was too proud, his eyes too empty. “I believe we have you to thank for exposing these brigands.”

He was callous, cold, he seemed undisturbed by the children lying at his feet. Arios bit his tongue. “Milord these are your people.”

“And they chose themselves over the good of our city,” sighed the lord, “The rationing is done for the benefit of all, we cannot have some of our citizens believing themselves above the law.”

The stench of wine was on his lips. Every breath a testament to the hollowness of his words.

Arios felt his blood boil. Kenosia deserved so much better than this man. Lord Theron could not even manage the pretense of care. He spoke of sacrifice, not by him but for him. These children had starved so that he could lose himself in his cups.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Theron groaned and Arios watched him look down at the hem of his cloak.

“This shall need to be washed now,” the man muttered.

His fists tightened slowly, staring at Lord Theron. The man was so preoccupied by the blood on his robes that he did not notice Arios. The knuckles on his hands turned white, muscles coiling, body tensed. His breath slowed. There was nothing left to do but raise his arm and—

“—I should take the boy home.”

Darios had taken ahold of his hand and was gripping it tightly.

Lord Theron looked up. “Are you sure that would be wise?”

“Look at him, he can barely stand.”

Arios’s legs buckled swaying as if caught in the wind. He had nearly struck a Lord. He looked back at Darios who shook his head ever so slightly.

“Perhaps he would be better off staying with you.”

“The boy’s father will worry.” The captain’s voice trembled. It was quiet, nothing like his usual booming self. He had been hit hard by the night’s tragedy.

“Daidal has work enough to keep him occupied. The river wall needs much attending to. He will not miss the boy.” He was annoyed, but why?

“Lord…Kalydor would not wish this.”

“Oh, you speak for our Lord now do you,” laughed Theron.

“I do.” The strength had returned to his voice. He glared at Theron and stepped in front of Arios.

A shadow of doubt passed across Theron’s face. He looked unsure at how to respond to such defiance. It was an uneasy silence but finally, he spoke, “I will leave it to your judgment Captain, I merely thought it would put the boy at ease to rest a while with you before returning home. But do not forget yourself, you may not be mine to command but I am still a Lord.”

Darios’s eyes hardened and he growled through gritted teeth, “His place is with his father.”

“Very well,” scoffed Lord Theron, “Begone, both of you.” Then whirled and swept away towards his men.

Darios watched until Theron had rejoined his soldiers before turning back to Arios, “Come, let's get you home.” The words were softer, gentler, this was the man Arios knew. He had been in such a state before. Frenzied, savage. But it had been to protect Arios and the city. He could see the pain in the captain’s eyes. Darios regretted the violence. At the time it had seemed the only way, he could see that, he needed Darios too as well.

“Darios…I told you they were Kyrithon. It is my fault, I couldn’t imagine. You thought you were protecting the city, protecting me. I am sorry…” The words spilled out of him and he felt the guilt weigh down on him for the first time. They were just children; it was because of him that they were dead. No! They had slain the guards! Killed good Kenosians of their own accord. What was he supposed to have thought? Tears streamed down his face.

“No, the fault was mine.”

Arios looked up, there was a grieved look on the man's face. Lined with worry, the pain etched into his flesh.

“My orders were to guard the storehouses. Not from Kyrithon alone, but from any who would steal from them. Once my men were slain their fates were sealed…Your words did not inform my actions Arios…do not dwell on them.”

Darios took him by the hand, leading him from the hall.

“I cannot let you bear this alone. I see how it tortures you. We will share the guilt so that neither of us drowns in it.”

Darios stopped. His back was turned and his body seized for the smallest of moments. Then he spoke, “This is not the first time I have done unspeakable things in the hopes that the future will be brighter for it. The burden is heavy but it is mine to bear. It is for people like you Arios that I fight for this future. It”—he shuddered and choked back a sob— “would have been for them too,” he whispered. “I pray to Ah…to the gods that this will be the last time.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. The rain was heavy but Arios was glad of it. It washed away the stench of blood and it hid the tears.

They reached his home before dawn. Darios left quickly without saying a word, disappearing into the darkness.

Father and Ilaria were still abed. They did not need to know of this. Their worries would be of no use to anyone.

He collapsed into his bed still wet from the rain. Across the corridor was Ilaria’s chamber. He could hear her tossing in her sleep, muffled whimpers echoed through the walls. She was having a foul dream of some sort. But before he could consider just what it might be his own dreams took him, carrying him into the night.