A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (36 page)

Chapter
63: The Banished

Jareld had one last thing to take care of before he
sold off the Baron’s estate. He had bought the manor house on Chelsea Street, less than half a mile from the Castle Anuen. The only modification he had made when he bought the place was to add a dungeon. A bit macabre, perhaps, but he had enough coins to pay for it and enough left over to keep it a secret. He only ever planned to have one prisoner.

Jareld convinced King Duncan that Prince William should be banished from the Kingdom. There was already too much confusion over the line of Kings. Of course, you couldn’t punish William for his part in all that. But having him in the country would only create problems. Jareld knew of an Academy in a distant land, where William would get a great education.
A retinue of servants was assigned to the False Prince, and they were prepared to sail that afternoon.

Jareld had one last secret, one that nobody in the Council knew. Not even Emily. Only Corthos shared this secret with him, and the pirate would never tell. Landos was still alive. And he was living in the dungeon below Jareld’s estate. The new Magistrate descended into the basement to confront the old Magistrate. Landos scurried to his feet upon hearing Jareld’s approach.

“Have you come to gloat?” Landos asked.

“It terrifies you, doesn’t it?” Jareld said. “You put on a brave face, but already you’re thinking about how long I intend to keep you down here. Do you even know how long it’s been?”

“No. Three months? Four?”

“Five weeks,” Jareld said. “Do you see how time expands in the darkness? I was in the darkness for four years, and I think you deserve the same.” Landos sank to his bench, resting his head in his hands. Four years... “But,” Jareld continued, “I won’t keep you locked away, even though we both know you deserve it. I just wanted you to have a taste. An understanding of what you did to me.

“William is banished from the Kingdom. I’ve arranged for you to be aboard his ship, under a false name. Once you’ve cleared our shores, you can reveal yourself to him. Do so before that, and you risk a real death sentence. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Landos said.

“You can never return here,” Jareld continued. “Do you understand that as well?”

“Of course. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Think about what you’ve done, to me and to the Kingdom,” Jareld said. He pulled a key out of his cloak pocket and opened Landos’ cell. “Corthos is waiting upstairs. He’ll take you to the docks.”

And with that, Jareld left.

---

When William’s ship was mile out at sea, Landos finally came to his cabin. William was so happy to see him, and he finally revealed to the boy that he was William’s real father.

“But, why do we have to leave Anuen?” William asked.

“Because a bad man tricked me,” Landos said.

“Who?” William asked, a worried expression on his face.

“His name is Jareld,” Landos said. “And I will tell you many stories about him. Because one day, when you’re old enough, you will return to Anuen. And you will defeat him.”

---

Landos tossed and turned in his bed that night. A new life on a new shore. Sarah was dead, but his son was alive. From the crew, he had heard all the tales of the Battle of Anuen. The dreams and the nightmares.
How
the
Monster
had taken over people’s minds.

And he realized that for the entire time he had been in that dungeon, he had dreamed of Sarah. She had been his guiding star. His hope. His reason for staying sane.

But it occurred to him that he had never seen her in his dreams. Not the real her. Only his memory of her. Was she not sharing her dreams with him? Was it because the Monster had taken her mind?

Of course. That’s what it must have been. He loved her. She had loved him. It was true and pure. They weren’t just together because of their shared sins. They were together because their love was greater than any other.

It had to be...

---

Six Years Ago…

Sarah watched on as Vye placed her hand on Michael’s chest. A warm light filled his torso, closing his wounds, reviving him. He coughed as he woke. His eyes were the same bright green that she remembered. The same ones that had been in her dreams.

It was night, but who knew which one. Sarah had been a prisoner for almost a week, Corthos had told her, but none of it seemed real. Her time alone in a room with the dragon Devesant would become something of legend, but her coy responses to people’s questions would come from legitimate amnesia of the event, not reluctance to talk about it.

She had apparently even been unconscious as the jester Flopson had bounded up the balcony stairs of the Grand Hall and scooped her out of her resting place. Michael and Jareld and Vye had been fighting the Great Wyrm, keeping it busy. She still didn’t have all the details. She had only been awake for fifteen minutes herself.

Finally, Michael was on his feet. He was disoriented, and he seemed tired still, but he was healthy.

“Glad to see you on your feet again, Your Royal Stinkiness,” Flopson said from the tree above.

“Glad to see you’ve learned to address me by my new title,” Michael called back up, but then turned to Lady Vye, “How is everyone?”

“Alive,” she answered. “Corthos and Flopson were unscathed. They watched over me until I came to. Sarah woke up from, I don’t know, some sort of coma or trance she was in. Maybe magical in nature. You and Jareld had the worst of it, but he’ll be fine as soon as I have enough energy to cure him. You were calling it awfully close.”

“Not the first close call I’ve had,” Michael said, referring to his recent internment in the woods, recovering from an assassination attempt.

“It’s going to be some time before I can help Jareld. If anyone wants to rest up in the castle, they’re welcome to it.”

Without a word, Michael took Sarah by the hand and walked her back to the House of Vye. Vye would later explain that in her hurry, she had teleported them to a familiar place outside the House. A place she had been to many times as a child.

Michael and Sarah were admitted to a guest suite in the House. As soon as they were alone, Michael kissed Sarah. And the kiss become an embrace, and the embrace became a desperate grapple to remove all their clothes.

Until finally they were naked before one another. Standing apart, their hands linked across the space between. A look between their eyes of mirth, even though the War raged on in the world.

“I love you, Sarah,” Michael said, “More than anything in the Earth and the Heavens.”

But this made Sarah frown.

“I love you, too. But I wasn’t always as certain as I am now. And… I’ve done something terrible…”

“What is it?”

“I was unfaithful to you. I slept with another man. And I’m carrying his child.”

And at this, Michael staggered back. His hands fell away from hers.

“It was foolish. It was…unforgivable. But I’m asking for you to forgive me anyway. Because I do love you more than anything in the Earth and the Heavens. And it would be a tragedy now for us to be apart because of this mistake I’ve made.”

Michael thought about this. Even as they stood halfway across the room, wearing only their skin and their souls. But he knew that he was in love now. He was certain of it. And he knew he had no right to look down on Sarah for her sins. His sins were worse.

And the truth was, he realized, the sins didn’t matter. Everyone had sins. But the love he had for her was real. And true. And amazing.

“I forgive you,” he answered finally, “If you’ll forgive me for abandoning you. I put the Kingdom before my wife. Before the woman I love, and I won’t do it again.”

“You have to. Because it’s part of who you are. It’s part of why I love you. I forgive you, of course, and I know that this is just a moment in time. But I want to share this moment with you.”

They embraced again, and now without the burden of having to get undressed, made love. Afterwards, they embraced against the cold, night air. After a while, Sarah spoke.

“Please be gentle with Landos. I think he really does love me, though that may not excuse our crime.”

“I shall deal with Landos when the time comes.”

But that time never came. Sarah never spoke to anyone of her last conversation with Michael. Is it possible he would have forgiven them both? Or would his wrath be born anew with the rising of the sun? He died that same night, at the hands of Argos, in the last confrontation of the War. And Sarah kept her silence, for she did love Michael, and she wanted that moment between them-- that last, honest, loving moment-- to be pure and hers alone.

---

The End

---

Epilogue
: What the Rain Brings...

A woman awoke on the beach to the sound of distant thunder. A drizzle pecked her face with tiny, wet flecks of water. The soft sand hugging her skin. Muscles stiff, barely able to move.

The waves lapped across the shore, one of them sweeping over her body. Her naked body, she realized. The sky was a white blanket over the morning. Overcast. Was it drizzling or just a very dense fog? She couldn’t tell.

Despite her muscles insisting they weren’t ready, the woman lifted herself to her knees to look around. Hugging her naked torso against the chill sea breeze, she could see the trees lurking just beyond the fog. But they weren’t her trees. Her trees were deciduous or evergreen. These were tropical. The kinds she had seen in paintings but never in real life...

Real life...

That was a weird concept. The woman looked down at her body. Clearly she was in her early twenties. And she knew things. Words and numbers, and kinds of trees. But all of those things must have come from somewhere. From a real life. A life she had lived, and experienced, and aged in...

But she had no memory of it. Who was she? Where was she? How did she get here? And where the fuck were her clothes?

Deep voices echoed through the fog, and a moment later, two fishermen emerged from the trees, a canoe in tow. Hearty, hefty, with full beards. Their steps and conversation stopped dead when they saw the naked woman.

“Well,” said the shorter man with a snicker, “Somebody paid extra for this.”

“That’s not funny,” the taller man responded. They placed the canoe on the ground, and the tall man dug through their supplies to grab a blanket. “Are you alright, m’Lady?”

“Lady? She ain’t the Duchess of Brimford,” the short man jibed. “C’mon, the storm just passed. The fish’ll be biting. And you’re slowing us down for a whore who lost her stockings.”

“You’re not from our village, are you?” the tall man asked.

“I don’t think so,” the woman responded, confused.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How did you come to this shore, and where are your belongings?”

“I don’t remember...anything,” the woman concluded.

---

The man brought the woman back to their village. She stayed with his family for a week, borrowing his wife’s clothes, and recovering her strength. She helped out around the village whenever she could. She was strong, and resourceful, and since the storm had damaged a lot of their huts, she was helpful in rebuilding them, making them stronger than they had been before.

But still, she could not remember her name. The people jokingly called her the Mermaid, because of the story of how she was found. But that name soon became one of respect. A joke amongst friends. And eventually, Mermaid became Mer, and that became Mera.

One day, Mera was helping an old woman prepare her evening meal. It was the sort of task Mera performed. Traveling from house to house, and helping those in need. The old woman repaid the favor with a tale.

“I will tell you the story of the storm,” the old woman said. “The storm that brought you here.”

“You know a story about that storm?” Mera challenged the old woman.

“Indeed I do. You see, the storm was an angry storm. It had been built, created, by an evil sorceress to destroy a city. To drown all its people. But there was another wizard. A good one, who refused to let the city be washed away.

“This good wizard, she wasn’t strong enough to fight off the storm. So she used herself up. Sent her will into the winds and the water, holding the tide at bay. She had become one with the storm so that she could control it, but ultimately it destroyed her.

“But storms do not share their time and energy with others. And this storm raged on for weeks, moving south and west with the currents of the world. Until it came here. And finally, it spit that wizard out, casting her from its essence.”

“Are you saying...” Mera asked, “That I was part of that storm?”

“Indeed,” the old woman said, “And you sacrificed yourself to keep it from destroying your people. But your body wasn’t destroyed. Just scattered. And the storm didn’t like you. So it exiled you.”

“How do you know any of this?” Mera asked.

“It came to me in a dream,” the old crone answered. “I was dreaming, and I was in a room with a fireplace. Very cozy. And there was somebody telling me a story about this amazing woman who had sacrificed herself to the storm.”

“Can you remember who was telling you the story?” Mera pleaded, “Please, can you try to remember...”

“Oh yes, I got it now,” the old woman said. “She looked just like you. And her name was Julia Vye...”