Echoes of Memory, page 38
Sephira’s aunt Corrine still surprised Kestrel. How had she known that he was guarding the gate? Hadn’t she been inside the house when everything had happened?
When a woman wanted to know something, they were terrifying in their ability to root out the truth.
He was frightened that one of these days, she might hunt him down to get the truth out of him about the world of magic he’d so carelessly dragged her husband and niece into. What could he do with that? The thought of staring into her steely eyes as she sized him up made him shudder.
He was glad for the distraction her command brought him. He didn’t relish her finding him, cornering him, and forcing him to explain what happened. He’d seen the look in his squad leader's eyes as he passed them on the way to the barracks. He was terrified of letting Aris Ravenscroft down, but Corrine’s rebukes had been harsh enough to make him wither underneath them and he was firmer than the mountains that towered above them.
A sense of hopelessness overwhelmed Kestrel when he stepped into the barracks. The air was heavy with a feeling of lostness. The crowds who had just been fighting so recently had had the wind taken out of their sails, and now all the fury that they had turned towards Aris had shifted. It morphed into fear. Fear at what to do next. Fear of being homeless, without money, or a hope of a future.
Kestrel knew that feeling well. He had lived in that apprehension for years. He was born into that fear. His mother had numbed herself to that disquiet with narcotics. She had become so numb to the world that losing Kestrel to the streets had mattered nothing to her.
Kestrel had seen her once before she died. Her ribs jutted out like sickly limbs of dead trees. Her withered, broken form wore the barely-there clothes of a street prostitute. She had been so taken by the drugs and whatever venereal diseases she’d contracted due to her trade that she hadn’t even recognized him.
That was his last memory of her.
He had lived in the fear that the crowd was now wallowing in, but seeing his mother so wasted by the disquiet, unable to take care of herself as the drugs and diseases took her body, had made him swear to himself that he would never give in to that same terror.
He may always feel it, but he would rise above it.
He would never be like his mother.
Kestrel plopped the large basket of linens down on the ground and began wiping and dressing the wounds of the nearest person, a young girl that couldn’t have been more than ten years old. At first, she’d withered at his touch, but calmed when Sephira came by his side and assured the girl that she’d be safe and feel better soon.
“Does this hurt?” Kestrel asked as he probed a large purpling bruise.
Tears welled in the girl's eyes as she nodded a ‘yes.’
“You’re really brave do you know that?” Kestrel said, calming the girl. “Once I had a bruise like this one, but it hurt me so much I laid in bed for days. I couldn’t move at all. But look at you. You can move already. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be,” he grabbed the girl by the hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
A look of pride changed the young girl’s tear-covered face bringing a bright smile with it.
“I bet it hurts a lot, but you’re strong and brave,” Kestrel said, as the young girl softened at his warm tone. “It’s going to hurt a little more, but I’m going to put some cream on it that will help you heal faster, okay?”
The blonde child nodded, her tears drying up.
Kestrel took some of the Elfbark cream that his fellow guardsmen used to treat their training injuries and lifted the young girl's shirt enough to rub in the healing balm over the large bruise that spread over the side of her ribcage like the image of a rancid purpling lake.
She flinched under his touch, but he spread the balm with the care of a healer and soon he’d covered the large bruise and began wrapping the wound with linens to keep the girl from moving too much and further injuring her bruised side.
“When did you find time to train under a healer?” Sephira asked as they moved to the next person.
“What do you mean?”
“You calmed the girl down and took care of her wound with ease. How did you do that?”
“You were the one that calmed her down Sephira,” he responded to her question.
“Not really. I barely helped. The rest was you,” she said.
There was something in Sephira’s eyes as she said that. Was it admiration?
Kestrel didn’t know. But he did know that he would gladly spend a lifetime doing whatever it took to see that look in her eyes if only for one more time.
Chapter 60
WORD OF THE RIOT ARRIVED to Aris mere minutes after it started. He had set up a watch on his house the day after the attack on Sephira and Kestrel by the corrupt Guard Rel. An attack that had resulted not only in the loss of one of his best men but the lives of five others as well, including Rel and the Inquisitor that had destroyed everyone else with the touch of his terrible magic and martial skills.
Aris ran to the stables and saddled the nearest horse the moment he heard word of the assault on his gates.
He trusted his men implicitly, but he also knew how easy it was to default to violence when surrounded by a mob. He needed to get back to his estate before someone lost their life. Before all hell broke loose.
Worries plagued Aris’ mind as he passed the bones of the city sprawled out below him. His heart felt like the burned-out shells of the houses and businesses devastated by the fires caused by Emperor Evrain’s Inquisitors.
What if, when he returned to his home, he found it razed like all the ones he passed? What if he were to stumble across the mangled body of his wife Corrine? What would he do if the crowd had laid their hands on his twin daughters? What might have happened to his niece Sephira?
Aris didn’t want to think about it. Dwelling on those thoughts made him sick. Sick and furious. He couldn’t allow that. Riding into a battle hot-headed was a surefire way to die. He had seen it countless times.
“Calm yourself you fool!” He chided himself as the wind whipped at him. “Calm yourself and think of how to keep your family safe!”
Even as the ground was a blur beneath him, he focused on his breathing and quieted his mind. He would protect his family. He wouldn’t let fear overtake him. He wouldn’t let it blind him.
He would protect them at any cost. He was willing to pay the same price his elder brother Van had paid. If he meant saving his family, he would lay down his life.
He would do whatever needed to protect those whom he loved.
Aris’ heart sank as he neared the estate. He saw the scars of the fire before anything else, the blackened trail of destruction that scored the ground.
“No. No no no no no!” He thought as his eyes took in the scorched earth.
But wait...
That’s all it was. None of the buildings bore any of the scars of fire. There were no signs of the monster that a blaze could become as it consumed whatever was in its path in its ravenous maw.
Aris’ heart lifted a little.
He came to the gate. He saw the dark scorch marks on them, but still, they stood, resolute against the great destroyer. What had happened here? Where were the rioters? He saw the faint hints of blood in the darkened earth, but no bodies.
Where were Corrine and his children? Could the mobs have made it inside the gate already? He had come as quickly as he’d heard the news, but the messenger might have arrived much later than he realized.
Aris’ stomach twisted again.
No guard was at the gates to open it for him, but it was cracked open enough that he was able to pry it, and with a large burst of strength, swing wide the large door.
The sight that greeted him surprised him.
Corrine stood on the steps, directing his soldiers and the remaining mob like some general out of a great painting meant to adorn the walls of a militaristic king. Her back was straight and she spoke with such force and conviction that Aris’ spine tingled upon hearing her voice. He would follow her into battle. He would die for her. She was amazing. She had united both the troops and the rioters. How she’d done so was beyond him. Aris was amazed. He loved her.
“You, go help my girl Sephira and Kestrel,” she commanded one of the guards, who had just returned from some unknown duty.
Aris stood at the back of the crowd, taking in the scene. Corrine was a sight to behold. She led with the ease and confidence of a man born into battle. Aris wasn’t sure what had happened, but by the scars of the fire and the blood on the ground, he knew it couldn’t have been good. From the reports that had led him to abandon his post and hurry back home, it had sounded like he would return to a burned-out shell of a home. Instead here was his wife, commanding both the soldiers and rioters with the air of a long-established monarch.
“You,” Corrine’s voice shifted when her eyes fell on Aris. “You come here and take over for me,” her voice quieted.
Aris nodded and broke through the crowd, moving like a man half convinced he never left the dreams of his previous night's rest. The closer he got to the stairs of his house where Corrine was commanding the mob, the more he saw his wife’s posture and the look of fear in her eyes. She was terrified. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly, and he could see that it took all her strength to keep herself together and give the impression of an unbending steel spine.
Seeing her standing there, in front of the soldiers and rioters who had minutes ago been killing each other. commanding them with such force despite the terror that consumed her made Aris’ heart swell.
He loved this woman.
To hell with her being his brother’s wife before he had died. She had made vows to him too and he had let his guilt for something old and beyond his control or scope of knowledge at the time eat him alive from the inside out.
He had let guilt —guilt not of his own making nor choosing— eat him alive and his wife had paid for it. He had been a coward and pretended to sleep when she’d cried late at night, back bowed with concern for her husband and the darkness of the world he’d dived into and that had slowly dragged him away from her.
She deserved the truth. He loved her more than anything in the world. He loved her and love demanded truth.
But the truth was terrifying. The truth could tear them apart. Still keeping the truth from her had already been ripping them apart. It had driven him from her with far more surety than the list of ‘what ifs’ the truth held.
As he looked upon her, standing resolute in the face of a terror that was causing her to shake he realized something.
He was a coward.
He had kept the truth from his wife in the name of keeping her safe, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason. It wasn’t about keeping her safe. It was about keeping himself safe. He was afraid of what she might do if she learned the truth.
He was afraid she’d leave him. Scared she would be disgusted with him. He was frightened of a thousand tiny things. He was afraid and that fear kept him from her. It kept him from truly loving her and, just as bad, the fear hadn’t allowed her to love him.
He was cutting her from her marital bonds by giving into the gnawing doubt. She deserved better than that.
He needed to truly love her. He needed to let himself be loved because love without knowledge isn’t real love. It's a bastardization. Real love is seeing everything and still being faithful to the promised bonds.
Not even thinking of the crowd, Aris caught Corrine up in a sweeping embrace and planted a big kiss on her lips.
“Thanks. Thank you for everything. I’m so sorry. I’ve wronged you greatly and if I could spend the rest of my life righting that wrong, I would. But first, we must deal with what happened here.” He whispered into her ear.
Corrine just nodded. Unsure of what was happening.
“So what happened?” he asked.
Corrine gave a brief, but comprehensive explanation of the rioters, their assault on the gates, and the tragic incident that led to the fire which threatened to consume the nearby houses.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aris said when she finished her summery and gave her a peck on her cheek. “I can take over from here. Or, if you wish, I’ll leave it to you. You seem to be doing a much better job of it than I could ever do,” he joked with her.
“No thank you. This taste of your job has been enough to whet my appetite for the rest of my life. You needn’t worry about me ever stealing your post. I don’t fancy taking your job. I’d rather just take care of our children rather than a whole city of them.”
Aris laughed.
The crowd watched on. He cleared his throat.
“I know what you may have heard, and I can assure you it is untrue,” his voice, so tender with his wife seconds ago, had turned iron. He captivated the crowd with the voice of an orator. His hands danced as he spoke. “Indeed, I was there when the assassins attacked Emperor Evrain, and it is also true that I tried to capture some of the assassins for further questioning. I wanted nothing more than to capture them and root out the source of their rebellion. If I could find that, I could rid our nation of the evils of the rebellion forever. But I was never given the chance.”
Aris paused, letting his words sink into the ears and hearts of their hearers.
“I tried to capture them, but before I could, the Minister of Defense, Edrian Wolls, ordered them slaughtered. He had a force of more than twenty slaughter the small group of less than ten. They cut them down with reckless abandon. They enjoyed the slaughter. They murdered everyone they could. It was a horrific bloodbath. Only one of the rebels broke through, and he was hunted down by the Inquisitors.”
The crowd that had been whispering as they listened to the General’s words immediately went silent.
The Inquisitors weren’t real. They were just boogymen. They were stories told to scare little children into obedience. They were nightmares. They couldn’t be real.
But Aris Ravenscroft himself had said they were real so they had to be; despite them rioting, it wasn’t because he was a liar. The public tolerated liars. Sometimes they championed them. No, they had attacked his estate because he was an honest man. He was an honest man who had failed them when they trusted him the most.
“Did he really say the Inquisitors? It’s just a story right?” A voice in the crowd whispered. They believed him but didn’t believe they’d heard him correctly.
“Yes, I did say Inquisitors. And yes, they are real, and it was they who killed the rebel leader. Not me,” Aris said.
“Do I tell them?” Aris thought. He wanted nothing more than to warn everyone about Emperor Evrain and the threat he posed to their great nation of Vealand, but they wouldn’t believe him. And if some miracle happened and they did, it could just as easily lead to their deaths.
Yes, they’d just rioted, and blood had been spilled on both sides, but he was their protector. He’d dedicated his life to protecting the inhabitants of Fiell, and by extension, Vealand. He didn’t want their deaths on his hand, but some part of him, deep in his stomach told him that they would die without the truth.
Did it have to do with the vision that he had seen when he touched Evrain? Could what he had seen have been be real?
Wallace, despite his crotchety attitude, was a masterful teacher and he’d drilled into the General the differences between real and fabricated memories. What Aris had seen hadn’t been fabricated...But it also was impossible. If it was true it meant Evrain had to be centuries old
Attaining that age wasn’t possible.
All those thoughts passed in the blink of an eye, and his speech paused for just the slightest breath before he began speaking again. “The Inquisitors are real, and they were the ones who killed the rebels. They slaughtered them without mercy. Without a second thought, they killed. You may have heard that I’d fallen in the battle,” Aris said.
Some in the crowd nodded.
“It wasn’t due to the Rebels being strong. They indeed were, they had military precision, but Edrian Woll’s force was far too large for them, they never stood a chance. No, it was the dark magic of the Inquisitors that felled me,” Aris said, making a snap decision. He may not be able to warn the masses against Evrain and his evil, but he could turn them against the Inquisitors, and maybe, just maybe, showing them the dangers of the Inquisitors would lead them to the one who created the monsters that had started the fires that’d destroyed their city.
Maybe, they like him, when confronted with the truth of the Inquisitors would come to see Emperor Evrain for the monster he truly was.
Aris surveyed the crowd, at the mention of magic, the whispering that had been building died down again. Silence fell over the group. Surely what the General had said must have been some strange turn of phrase.
He couldn’t believe in magic, could he? Magic was only real in the fairy stories of old.
“It was their evil magics that brought me down. I too, was a victim of the darkness that they used against the rebel leader. I felt the terror that they shared with him. I felt the fear that they fed into his mind. I saw the visions of torture that they shared. I saw it. I felt it, and I can assure you, when I call what the Inquisitors do, dark magic, I am by no means stretching the truth. They have magic, and it is evil,” Aris Ravenscroft addressed the small crowd of both soldiers and malcontents that hadn’t yet been assigned tasks. “They can infect the minds of others. They share visions of horrors. I’ve seen strong men fall to their knees in terror at the mere sight of them. Those monsters have killed my own guards. They almost killed my niece. These things are monsters and they’re our common enemy, not me, not the guards. The Inquisitors. It was them who started the fires that took everything from you. It was they. They are the monsters we are fighting. They are the ones who destroyed everything you hold dear. They burned your houses. It was their fires that killed your loved ones. It was them, under the direction of Edrian Wolls who destroyed your livelihoods. The Minister was looking for any excuse to bring his soldiers, the soldiers who should be protecting our borders, into the city to take over and control the city. He was playing a dark political game, and you, you were the pawns caught in the middle. You were a sacrifice by a corrupt politician in a game played to win control of the heart of Vealand, and he didn’t care if he burned half of it down in his attempt to take over.”
