Wrath of Lions (31 page)

Once the doors to the makeshift throne room were closed, King Benjamin rose from his throne.

“Master Warden Ahaesarus,” he said, “it is splendid that you have chosen to greet us this fine day.”

“My presence was requested, my liege,” Ahaesarus replied, squinting in confusion.

“Of course it was,” the king said, giving a questioning glance to Isabel, who was as still as stone, her hands folded over her lap. She nodded to the boy king, and Ben Maryll shifted uncomfortably before returning to his throne. He tugged at the scarf wrapped around his neck, revealing, for the briefest of moments, the jagged white bolt of scar tissue that stretched across his throat. Though Ahaesarus, Daniel Nefram, and a team of Mordeina’s greatest healers had succeeded in mending the wound Geris had given the boy, they had barely saved his life. The new king would forever be marked by that fateful night.

Ahaesarus approached the raised platform and knelt before it, but he did not incline his head. That would have been akin to worship, and the only being in all of Dezrel who deserved worship was Ashhur.

It had been a long while since Ahaesarus had seen King Benjamin, for most of his time was spent working on the wall. He took a few moments to examine the boy, and it was an odd sight. Ben was clean, his skin well powdered. Rouge had been applied to his cheeks, which gave him a more childlike appearance than he should have possessed at fifteen years of age. His clothing was draped velvet, both smooth
and crushed, in varying shades of maroon, emerald, and lavender, the dominant colors of House DuTaureau. His hair was chopped short and shining with oil, and a plain wooden crown rested evenly atop his head. Ben was growing pudgy around the middle and starting to develop a second and perhaps even third chin.

In most every way, this Benjamin Maryll resembled the child that the traitor Jacob Eveningstar had tutored during the majority of the lordship. Although Judarius had whipped the boy into shape, Ben seemed to be reverting to his old ways. He had a lax demeanor, very unlike the hardened youth his fellow Warden had helped mold. It was amazing how much could change in less than a year’s time. Ahaesarus wondered if Isabel was spoiling her pet king into complacency or if this was simply Ben’s natural state.

“So, Master Warden,” said the young king while he rubbed his hands over his throne’s ivory armrests, “tell me: How does the wall progress?”

Ahaesarus cleared his throat. “It progresses well, my liege. There is but a small section yet to complete, and we still have a sally port to cut, but all being equal, I would say our progress is back on schedule.”

“You have led your workers well, Master Warden,” said Isabel in her remote, emotionless tone. “I see a change has come over you, and one for the better. It was only a few weeks past when you could not reach those who would be your wards.” A smile finally came across her lips, and Ahaesarus had to admit it made her even more beautiful. “Now they work themselves day and night, and success is within our reach.”

“They work not for me, but themselves,” he retorted. “They are beginning to understand the gravity of what will befall them.”

“And you had much to do with that. The progress you have made is admirable.”

Having four talented spellcasters has helped.

“My Liege and Lady Isabel, it is the people of Mordeina whom you should be lavishing with praise, not me,” Ahaesarus said. “I am
merely a teacher, a Warden. If what I have taught has taken seed, if the men and women I care for have come to realize the preciousness of the gift of existence that has been bestowed on them, then it is they who deserve to be rewarded.”

“You truly mean that, don’t you?” sneered Richard DuTaureau, who still hovered behind his wife.

“I do,” Ahaesarus replied. He glowered at the petty little man and took the opportunity to rise from his kneel. Ahaesarus towered over everyone in the room, and Richard fell back a step, his expression uncertain, and then retreated. The man’s reaction made Ahaesarus want to laugh aloud, especially when he heard Richard’s footfalls disappear into the alcove to the rear of the hall. It might have been petty, but he
so
did not like that man.

“I agree with you, though the time for honoring my people shall come later,” said Isabel, seemingly unconscious of her husband’s departure. She leaned forward in her seat, her fathomless green eyes narrowing in on him. She had a sudden aura of seriousness that made him shudder. “Right now, I only wish to ask you a few questions.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Do you love the people you call wards?”

“With all my heart.”

“Why? Is it true love, or a debt you feel you owe to Ashhur? Tell me, Master Warden. I will know if you lie.”

He felt confused, unsure. This was not the line of questioning he’d expected.

“It began as duty, my lady,” he said. “For many years, I have watched humanity grow, and I have guided them with all my ability. From the moment Ashhur’s first thousand were created, their tiny clay vessels shaping themselves into fully formed youths, I have stood by their side, nurturing, attending, entertaining, educating. I showed them how to farm, fish, speak; I taught them their letters, their numbers, how to raise their children. My brothers showed
them how to build with stone and wood, how to sew using a porcupine quill for a needle. We told stories borrowed from our dead world, creating parables that would instill a sense of responsibility in the young race, and we taught them practical magics, drawing on the enchantments Celestia had buried deep within the soil to help crops grow quickly, paving the way for Paradise to prosper.

“And, of course, I taught my wards Ashhur’s laws, preaching about forgiveness and love and service to their fellow man.” The momentum built up inside him, and it was impossible to stop. “But if I am being honest, I never truly
understood
my wards. I was what I still am—a creature from a different world, very much like the humans I teach, yet completely dissimilar. On our own world, our race had lived for near thirteen thousand years when the demons severed the fabric of our universe and fell upon us. Our society was old, our ways settled. We were, in a phrase, bound to our station, sprouting from the womb seemingly already molded, the course of our lives set before we took our first breaths. My father was a farmer, and so I was to be a farmer too, until it was all ripped away in the cruelest way possible.

“When we were saved by Ashhur and Celestia, their rescue came at a price. Once more I found myself predefined: I was a Warden, one who would guide humanity through its infancy and into a prosperous adulthood. There were no other paths for me—for any of us. And though I was grateful for the second chance at life, a twinge of resentment grew nonetheless. I looked on mankind, at all the gifts and advantages they were handed, and felt…jealous.”

“Jealous?” asked Isabel, her voice animated by curiosity.

“Yes,” he replied. “Look at us, those you call Wardens. We are physically superior and far more advanced in almost every way. Each gift humanity was handed—aside from those bestowed by Ashhur—came from us. Language, arts, mathematics, agriculture—they were all gifts from we who could have been conquerors instead of nursemaids. Especially in those earliest days, humans appeared
so feeble compared to us, so weak and useless. Coddled, treated as if all they had was their
right
rather than their privilege. When my brothers were thrown out of Neldar and the lands of House Gorgoros, they should have been free, and yet they were called back into service, once more coddling these lesser beings who had so unfairly been lifted on high.

“That was why I suggested the formation of the lordship.” He inclined his head toward the king. “It was not wholly noble, I must say. A few of us wished to embarrass Ashhur, to show him that his children were frail and undeserving. It shames me to say that I was one of them. One of my confidants stated privately that we should instruct them halfheartedly, that we should allow those chosen to fail. Yet I am a flawed creature. I am too proud, too headstrong, not to give all I do my greatest effort. So when I became young Geris Felhorn’s mentor, I pushed him toward success, and slowly my desire to see humans fail fell by the wayside.

“Still, old emotions die hard, and after my student lost his sanity, I fell back into resentment. It did not help that one of the few humans I had looked on as my equal, Jacob Eveningstar, was the grand purveyor of a nefarious scheme to overthrow our beloved deity. Suddenly I was placed in the position of taking these innocent children I had privately begrudged and trying to help them save themselves. Only this time I saw myself as a disappointment, not those under my wing. Their failures were my failures, for it was my leadership, my pride, my patience that were lacking. Once more, it was Geris who saved me.” He swallowed deeply, wondering whether he should reveal his actions. Finally, he went on. “I have been visiting the broken boy in the well, and he
forgives me
. He loves me. He lifted the veil from my eyes, and now, for the first time ever, I see things clearly.”

“What do you see?” asked King Benjamin.

“I see innocence. I have lived a long time, my Liege. And yet…yet I had never seen the true face of virtue in a mortal creature.”
He swept his arms wide. “It is reflected in the joyous expressions worn by each man, woman, and child in Paradise. Their futures are not preordained, as I always felt mine was. They live their short lives for the moment; they love, they laugh, they comfort.…They could have been molded any way the gods chose, and Ashhur chose innocence. That was the folly of my ways.…It took me this long to understand what our Grace was trying to accomplish. He wanted to give birth to an
ideal
. Since the day of my awakening, I have become the teacher and mentor humanity has deserved all along. So to answer your question, my lady…yes, I have come to love my wards, and that love is very sincere.”

“Would you die for them?” she asked.

“Without hesitation,” he replied, and it did not surprise him that he truly meant it. “If any were to lash out at Ashhur’s children, I would strike them down or perish trying. And when Karak arrives on our doorstep, he will discover just how much I mean those words.”

“You will not have long to wait,” said Isabel.

Ahaesarus tilted his head forward. “What do you mean?”

The fire-haired lady lifted a sheet of parchment from the table behind her. “My daughter sent word from Drake,” she said. “Enemy forces have been attempting to cross the Gihon for some time now. Turock and his casters have held them back, and the villagers have as well, but the enemy is numerous and we are few. It is Abigail’s fear that Karak’s soldiers will overwhelm her husband’s defenses. Should that occur, the forces of our enemy will arrive south before the wall is complete.”

“I understand, my lady,” Ahaesarus said softly.

King Benjamin stood up. The folds in his neck flapped ever so slightly when he spoke. “You are to take a company of fifty of your fellow Wardens to help defend the line.”

“I will do as you command, my Liege,” replied Ahaesarus. “But may I ask why?”

“You have been visiting with Geris Felhorn,” the boy king said. “You have broken my direct decree that my competitor for the throne of Paradise, who tried to slit my throat, be left in isolation until Ashhur’s arrival. You have proven that you cannot be trusted.”

The young king turned, grinning, and mouthed to Isabel, “Was that okay?” The matriarch nodded, patted his cheek lovingly, and guided him back to his seat. The lady of the house then said, “Consider this another lesson, Master Warden. You are not the only Warden who can oversee the raising of our wall. Judarius will do just as well. And when you return, you will remember your place. Am I understood?”

Ahaesarus thought on what he’d just told them and swallowed his pride. “I understand,” he said.
Though I do not like it.
Thinking on the duty he had just been given, Potrel, Limmen, Martin, and Marsh then entered his mind, and he cleared his throat. “What of the four spellcasters?” he asked. “Should I return them to their home, to aid in its defense?”

Isabel looked annoyed by the question. “Of course not,” she said. “They must stay here and continue work on the wall.”

“I see. The wall is why we are being sent and they aren’t.”

She nodded. “Four talented spellcasters mean more to me here than fifty Wardens.” Those words she spoke with nary an emotion. “You will leave on the morrow. Good day to you, Master Warden.”

In the past Ahaesarus would have taken offense to both her tone and message, but he realized that she was correct, and he had nothing but respect for the fact she’d come right out and just said it. He bowed and took his leave, marching through the hall with dignity while the young king whispered behind him.

Howard Baedan, the master steward of the house, greeted him in the corridor, and Ahaesarus asked him to fetch Judarius. He needed to inform the other Warden of his impending departure, for Judarius would be in charge until he returned.

Alone once more, he realized that he might
never
return. He was running headlong into the heart of a war, if the letter Lady
DuTaureau had received was accurate, and if there was one thing the invasion of his home world had demonstrated, it was that war had many casualties. Given that possibility, he had no choice but to settle a certain matter on his own, and in his own way, no matter what Lady Isabel or King Benjamin had decreed.