Echoes of Memory, page 28
Corrine’s screams were gut-wrenching. Wallace had seen enough people killed, and enough monstrosities to know pure terror when he heard it, and Corrine’s screams were filled with that terror.
It was as if her soul were being ripped from her body. Wallace fought back a feeling of nausea and continued to watch the memories unfolding in front of his eyes.
“He hurt you deeply. He wasn’t worthy of your love. Look at how he left you! He had a good life with you but he threw it away. He couldn’t be content with his loving family. What kind of man would do that to his loved ones?” Corrine thrashed as the words bit into her nearly as deep as the leather restraints.
“No! He loved me! He loved us! He didn’t abandon us for nothing. You’re proof that his fight wasn’t in vain! It was because of twisted soulless freaks like you that he did what he did!” Corrine hissed, rage seethed from her voice.
The hooded figure didn’t take kindly to her provocation and slapped her hard across the face. Corrine immediately tasted the copper flavor of blood trickling down her mouth and into her throat. She wanted to spit it out, but the hooded freak grabbed her by the chin and held a hand over her mouth.
Corrine bucked in terror. She was going to choke to death on her own blood!
When the man finally let go, she let out a gasping cough that shot flecks of blood everywhere. She wanted to curse the man, but her fear of truly being suffocated the next time she provoked him won out over her anger.
Corrine’s tears flowed freely as she bit back her outrage.
“Now, you will behave, little sow!” the voice sounded twice as warped, for he still retained his sickly sweet tone as he let out a profanity-laden string of insults at Corrine. “I’m going to take your precious husband from you. Both he and your daughter will disappear from your mind,” he laughed. “I was told to be gentle with his extraction, but who am I kidding. I love it when they fight. I love taking what is most precious from my enemies. It...Excites me...”
He let out a sickening moan of pleasure.
Corrine wailed. The pain of knowing that the executed love of her life was now being stolen from her memory was too much to bear.
Wallace watched Corrine’s opaque memories in horror.
How was he seeing them?
He was seeing the terror firsthand. Wallace wondered if his eyes were tearing up.
What had they taken from her? Who was it that had been ripped from her memory? A part of Wallace knew the truth, but it couldn’t be him. It had to be someone else. It had to be, but he knew it wasn’t.
Chapter 42
CORRINE'S GAZE FIXED on Wallace, eyes filled with worry. He had turned to stone at her touch and his pupils had dilated to nearly encompassing his irises. What was wrong with him? Was the old soldier having a heart attack?
No.
Corrine KNEW this look. She didn’t know how she knew it, nor from where, but she was familiar with the shock that had overtaken the bald man. It was like an old acquaintance, one not seen for decades, but whose face was on the edges of memory.
Even now, nearly a minute later, Wallace had barely moved. Just what exactly had happened and more importantly, why did it feel so familiar?
Why did her heart ache so much at that look? Why did she feel herself on the verge of tears?
“What just happened?” Corrine asked.
“Nothing,” Wallace replied with the most half-hearted lie that Corrine had ever heard.
“You insult me,” Corrine snapped. Her anger briefly quelled him but just as quickly Wallace regained his composure.
If the stories that Aris had told her of the older man were true, he’d seen more than most would in a lifetime. More than many of the most seasoned detectives serving under her husband’s Generalship. It would take more than just the guilt trip of a mother and wife to break the old soldier.
“I’m sorry,” Wallace said. His eyes were pleading for a way out, but she couldn’t let it go. She needed to know what was happening.
Corrine could see the pain in Wallace’s eyes and she almost broke, but she didn’t. She was tired of the ignorance. She was afraid for her loved ones. Corrine felt like an outsider in her own family, and she could bear it no longer.
She wouldn’t bear it. She had watched from the outside for far too long. That was about to change.
She needed to know the truth.
“You will tell me or you can leave my estate,” there was no waver in Corrine’s voice when she spoke.
“Please understand that I would tell you if I knew what it was I saw and if I hadn’t already sworn an oath of silence. One that I dare not break.”
Corrine crossed her arms. She hated the idea of making the old soldier break his vow —she could tell he was telling the truth about the promise— but she hated watching as her family slowly slipped from her grasp into the dark world that followed Wallace and Kestrel’s wake. She wasn’t about to back down now. Not when she was so close to getting the truth.
“I don’t know what to say,” Wallace’s voice dropped. “Hells. I swore to him, and I’ve already broken that oath.”
He looked up at her. There was steel in his eyes. She could tell that he had made a decision.
Wallace cleared his throat and went on in his gravelly voice. “I can’t tell you everything. Your husband would kill me and I value my life. But I will share what I can. Is that acceptable?”
Corrine wanted more but knew she would never get it. She would have to be content with this small victory.
Wallace sighed, beckoned for Aris’ wife to take a seat on the bench next to him then proceeded to explain as much as he could.
Wallace sighed when he settled into his bed. He still wasn’t used to the softness of its embrace even after these long months of sleeping in it, but his aging body welcomed the comfort.
He had shared everything he could with Corrine outside of the world of Memory Magic surrounding them. He wasn’t about to let her in on that. Not after what he had seen. The poor woman had faced too much already.
Plus, if his intuition were true, she knew far more of the dark world of Magic than she was aware of. She had faced it firsthand.
He didn’t want her to relive that pain. Not after what he had seen in her memories.
It couldn’t have been him. Could it?
Wallace’s gut told him it was. He knew the truth. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to face the implications of what he had seen.
How could he?
Corrine had been married to Van and her memories of the man had been stolen from her. Aris’ memory of his wife when she had been married to Van had been stolen from him.
Their whole life ever since Van’s execution had been a lie. Everything about them had been orchestrated by that sick monster sitting on the Veaish throne. The throne that he had committed genocide to take.
Wallace couldn’t think of anyone else but Van when he had looked into her memories.
She had been married to Van.
How was he supposed to deal with that?
The knowledge shook Wallace to his core. Van had been taken from her. It wasn’t only his death sentence that stole him from her grasp, but his very memory had been ripped from her soul.
What sort of monster would do such a thing?
Wallace wasn’t angry about sharing with Corrine. He had long since moved past that with Aris and Sephira, but his stomach turned with the knowledge he had gained at her touch.
What was he supposed to do with this information? The wife of Aris, the man who was housing him and was studying magic under his tutelage used to be the wife of Van, Aris’ brother. How could he tell Aris that?
Should he tell Aris?
What of Sephira? If Corrine were truly Van’s wife, that meant she was her daughter. She deserved to know that she hadn’t been abandoned by her mother. She never complained about it, but Wallace had seen her memories of betrayal at the abandonment by her mother. Sephira deserved peace.
But was it best for her to know?
Wallace’s head pounded like a rockslide.
He wanted to vomit. What was he supposed to do with this information? Was unearthing the truth worth tearing a family apart? What would the knowledge do to Aris? What about Corrine and Sephira?
It was best to keep quiet. It had to be.
I can’t tell him. I can’t destroy Aris’ family like that. Especially after all he’s done for me. He deserves to know the truth, but he doesn’t deserve the pain. He deserves better than that. Aris deserves any happiness he can find. Wallace thought. I’m not going to steal that happiness from him. I can’t take that from him.
Peace for Aris’ family was worth it. It would be difficult to keep the truth from them, but he would do so to protect them.
He would shield his mind, no one, not Aris, nor Kestrel would find his secret.
Wallace would protect them.
Even at the cost of truth.
Chapter 43
ARIS PANTED.
Kestrel’s fighting ability had grown exponentially. When he had first recovered from his injuries and Aris had decided to take responsibility for his training, the boy had been as green as the Spruce trees that dotted the foothills surrounding them. Now he was expertly dodging the series of attacks that Aris was rushing him with.
Kestrel’s visual acuity amazed Aris. He was seeing the smallest of openings in the General’s guard and was exploiting them with the skill of a soldier trained in battle for years. Kestrel was still a long way from coming near Aris’ level with the metalvine, but still, he was keeping him on his toes. He surprised the General by catching his metalvine mid-swing and disarming him. He followed up with a knee that barely grazed the General as he broke contact.
“That was a nice move,” Aris laughed as he danced back from Kestrel. “You almost had me there. Too bad that’s the best you’ll do. You’ve still got a long way to go before you can come close to touching me.”
Kestrel grinned. What felt like just a few days ago, he would’ve taken the bait and rushed in to attack Aris. Now he knew better than to be caught up in the trash talk. Living in a barracks with elite guard trainees had inoculated Kestrel to boasting.
He preferred silence when he fought, but he saw the utility behind the talk. If you got your opponent angry, you would have them off-balance, and an opponent without equilibrium —physically or emotionally— was easily put down.
Kestrel had faced the worst talk a man could imagine during his life spent in the streets. He wouldn’t be distracted by trash-talking anymore.
He was better than that, and he was eternally grateful to Aris for showing him that.
Kestrel stayed back and carefully studied Aris’ movements. Even disarmed, the older man was lethal. He had learned very quickly to never underestimate General Ravenscroft. He remembered some of their first sparring sessions and how easily Aris had thrown him through the air and rag-dolled him and he was taking it easy on him. Aris barely held back anymore.
Aris shifted his stance.
There.
Kestrel saw what he’d been looking for. Aris kept a tight defensive shell, but Kestrel found the opening he’d been looking for.
Every couple of breaths Aris’ guard would loosen and his elbows would pull outward. Kestrel could exploit that. He doubted that Aris even knew he was doing it. It was such a small movement that it had taken nearly five minutes for him to catch it, but the General was leaving himself open for an attack.
Kestrel waited. The General took a step back to breathe. There it was again. It was all that Kestrel needed to see so he stepped into a back-handed spinning attack with the metalvine. Aris dodged it easily, but as he did so, his guard split even further and Kestrel’s rear foot shifted and shot out and led him into a spinning back kick aimed at Aris’ open chest.
Aris grinned.
Kestrel had taken the bait.
He had noticed the young man’s tendency towards counter-fighting and had set the trap only a minute into their sparring session. With the metalvines, Kestrel hadn’t seen the opening, but when he’d disarmed the General, he’d quickly caught on and held back until the perfect opportunity to attack. Aris, though, had been waiting with his own counter and he easily caught Kestrel’s kick and scooped the young man’s foot to his outside then kicked his supporting leg out from under him. Kestrel fell to the ground in a heap.
“Emperors balls!” Kestrel cursed, “I thought that I had you that time! How long were you baiting me?” he asked.
Aris grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Kestrel laughed. “Don’t lie to me. That wasn’t luck. It was skill. I’m guessing you set it up the moment you started opening your guard. I should’ve seen it. I feel like an idiot for missing it.”
“Don’t worry about that. You hooked onto my lure about a minute before I thought you would. You've grown. When you first started, you wouldn’t have caught the tell for the whole session. Now get up.”
Kestrel grunted and lifted his hand towards Aris’ outstretched one. He had hoped that Aris would lest him rest on the loosely packed dirt of the sparring field for a longer period, but the General had no mercy on his student.
“Don’t think that you can rest on me like that,” Aris laughed when he saw Kestrel’s mischievous grin.
He had taught all the cadets that passed through the small barracks housed in his estate and loved each of them. They were like his younger brothers. Aris had tried to keep Kestrel at an arm's length, but despite himself, he had come to care for the young man. He was quickly becoming like a son to him. “If you rest in a real battle, you’ll end up dead,” he said.
Kestrel nodded. He didn’t need to be told twice. He’d seen throats slit when one was gloating in victory. In the streets, you were only ever safe when you made sure to beat your opponent to a point where they couldn’t fight anymore. Even then, you were never truly safe. Even in death, one had to worry about vengeance from a loved one, or worse yet, one to whom money was owed.
Kestrel scooped up the dropped metalvine and casually tossed it to the older man.
He was surprised when Aris didn't try to catch the weapon, but rather closed the distance between them with a lightning-fast pendulum step. Before Kestrel knew what was happening Aris had chambered his lead leg and thrust at him with a sidekick that could be lethal if it landed flush.
Kestrel sucked in his stomach at the last second and the kick missed by a hairs width. As the foot harmlessly retracted Kestrel took a pivoting step towards his right and was able to land a solid check hook on the General.
Kestrel didn’t have time to feel the thrill of getting such a solid hit on Aris before he found himself being wrenched to the ground where the older soldier quickly manipulated his joints to a point where Kestrel was crying for mercy.
“Serves you right for finally hitting me,” Aris laughed as Kestrel rubbed his hyperextended elbow.
“How does it feel to be old?” Kestrel shot back. “Too old to avoid a light punch from an amateur,” he had in fact, accidentally hit Aris twice as hard as he intended to, but he wasn’t going to let the General know that.
“How does it feel to be manhandled by such an ancient creature?” Aris grinned at Kestrel who was lugging himself back onto his feet.
“Great.”
“Yeah,” Aris echoed the sentiment with a wolfish grin.
The pair continued to spar for ten more minutes after Kestrel’s hook and the younger man was only able to land one more substantial blow on the General. A low kick that had buckled Aris’ leg and Kestrel was sure would leave a bruise.
Aris had given Kestrel trouble for his blow. He poked fun at Kestrel, telling him if he was forced to retire from an injury, it was because of him and he expected Kestrel to take full financial responsibility for him and the family.
Kestrel laughed at Aris’ joke, but part of him wondered what the older man thought of his connection with his niece. Would Aris approve of Kestrel’s feelings for Sephira or would he kill him if he found out about his growing attraction to his niece?
Try as he might to banish her from his thoughts, she always came to the forefront of his mind.
Aris in turn was in turmoil while he watched Kestrel. He wanted to tell the young man that Cillia hadn’t been killed in the attack that had very nearly taken Kestrel’s own life, but could he do that to Kestrel?
He could see a sense of peace in the young man’s eyes that hadn't been there before. For the first time in Kestrel’s life, he felt that he belonged somewhere. Was it fair to rip open that scab on someone who had had such a hard life? Was it fair to raise Kestrel’s hopes only to possibly dash them later?
Aris’ gut roiled at the thought.
He was already keeping so much from his wife, and now was withholding information from Kestrel on the only person he had ever loved.
Aris hated it.
He could manipulate and speak in veiled language to lead people to conclusions like he’d played the political game for ages, but Aris was an honest man and lying to those he loved even if only by omission chaffed him. His conscience was burning him alive. He might not be able to tell his wife of the secrets that shrouded him now, but he could tell Kestrel.
He owed him that.
“She’s still alive,” he said.
“What?” Kestrel asked, absentmindedly.
“She’s still alive,” Aris said louder.
“What do you mean?” Kestrel asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Who’s still alive?”
“Cillia is alive.”
The words pierced Kestrel. The general had to be lying to him. He’d seen the metalvine crashing against her tiny skull. Even now he could still see the blood spraying in a mist, puddling from her head as her body lay crumpled on the ground. She was dead. She had to be dead.
Right?
“Don’t you lie to me,” Kestrel’s voice cracked. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
