Shadowborn Read online

  It was stupid. So stupid. But Kael said it anyway.

  “I’m about to die. Why the hell do I care about a broken jaw?”

  This time it wasn’t a backhand that struck his mouth but a clenched fist. The impact sucked the air from Kael’s lungs. His knees buckled, and he slumped awkwardly, the other knight still holding his right side erect from underneath his arm. Pain radiated out from his jaw, and when he spat blood, he felt a cracked part of a tooth go with the glob.

  The knight leading them turned to glare.

  “Control yourself, Dorian,” he said. “Kael is to arrive unharmed.”

  Dorian pulled Kael back up to his feet as the iron door swung open with a loud, grating rumble.

  “Understood,” he said to his superior. Kael looked beyond the door, surprised to see lush green grass and a nearby row of trees. The three knights led him through, setting him down on a tightly packed dirt path. The prison behind him didn’t look like a prison at all, only a wide iron door built into the side of a low-rising mountain. Trees dotted the path sloping downward, statues of angels evenly spaced between them. Each one was bowed low in some form of humility or supplication.

  The lead knight turned to the other two.

  “I think it wise Vicar carry the boy instead,” he said. “I would hate for there to be an incident on the way to the site.”

  Dorian was left to hold him as Vicar accepted straps from the lead knight and began connecting them to various hooks on his modified harness. Kael leaned closer to his captor, dropping his voice low.

  “My jaw’s not broken, Dorian,” he said, giving the knight a bloodied grin. “Try to keep your word next time.”

  The knight’s brown eyes promised murder but his stance remained professionally rigid.

  “Stand still,” Vicar said, harness ready. The knight stood behind him and began looping the various straps into place. One went about his waist, two his chest. Dorian helped with the buckling, and Kael felt the man pulling the leather tighter than necessary. The worst was the final strap about his neck. Kael’s head locked against the knight’s chest, his throat struggling against the bond to perform the simple act of swallowing.

  “Avoid flying over cities,” the lead knight ordered when they were ready. “Make no stops until arriving at the site. Marius gave strict orders for the prisoner’s execution to be a low-key affair. No parading him before crowds, no bloodletting, and no public humiliations.”

  “No special treatment?” Kael asked. “Such a shame.”

  The knight stepped closer, his seriousness turning into something frightening.

  “Dorian, the neck restraint is not tight enough,” he said. “Please fix it.”

  Dorian was all too happy to oblige. The leather loop crushed into his larynx, prompting a gag reflex from Kael. When he sucked in air, it came in thin, weak gasps. Even the slightest movement worsened his pain.

  “Much better,” the knight said. “Dismissed.”

  Dorian and Vicar took to the air, Kael hanging beneath by the straps. The added pressure amplified his discomfort. Every breath required him to tilt his head as high as his neck allowed to gain another thin, cold slice of air.

  So stupid, he thought. When will you learn, Kael? I’d rather have a broken jaw.

  Kael rolled his eyes and forced the thought away. No use berating himself now. Sure, lesson learned, right before all lessons forever ended.

  The rolling landscape below was Kael’s only distraction from his impending fate. The sheer size of it was still awe-inspiring. No matter where you flew on Weshern, if you rose into the air and turned, you’d see at least one of the island’s edges. Not so here. They flew westward, to whatever site they’d planned for his execution. The green lands rolled along, but as Kael focused, he began to find the signs of the fireborn invasion. Patches of black marked long yellow fields. Forests that should have been green now looked as if a colorless fall had stripped clean their branches. Everywhere they flew, the destruction snaked and spread. It was akin to Weshern’s damage, only here it was … greater. Less controlled. With so many fireborn falling upon the massive island, and too few knights to contain them, they’d gone unchecked for far longer than they had in Weshern.

  Kael clenched his eyes and smashed the back of his head against Vicar’s chest to suck in another gasp of air. Sure, their destination meant his death, but he couldn’t wait to arrive anyway. He’d rather get it out of the way than endure another ten minutes of constantly feeling his lungs ready to burst.

  Kael was surprised by just how few waited for their arrival at the execution spot. He counted maybe twenty civilians quietly milling about in the patch of grass before the forest. Their clothing looked as expensive as the jewels and rings they wore. Several theotechs walked among their number, their red robes startlingly plain compared to the extravagance around them. A dozen soldiers stood at attention between the civilians and the stone well, separating them. Kael counted only a single knight among their number, and he felt his stomach twist. The spool of rope at his feet was enough to reveal the knight’s identity. Behind them was a dark forest of pines, their shadows deep and inviting.

  Dorian and Vicar settled down beside the well. Liam greeted them with a respectful bow.

  “I see he did not arrive unharmed,” Liam said. He yanked the buckle free from Kael’s neck, eliciting a long, gasping series of coughs. Liam’s fingers gently traced the raw line left by the leather, then touched Kael’s bleeding mouth. “The Speaker’s orders were explicit on this.”

  “The prisoner’s tongue is as reckless as the rest of him,” Dorian said. “But leave the matter be. His injuries are superficial. No one will notice nor care.”

  “I have noticed, and I care,” Liam said. Kael was startled by the anger in his voice. “Next time follow orders, knight, or I will speak with Marius of your contempt toward his demands.”

  Dorian reacted as if he’d been slapped, and he quickly apologized.

  No idle threat, thought Kael at Dorian’s rapid act of humility. Father must speak with Marius often.

  The remaining straps loosened. Kael dropped to his knees and fought off a wave of dizziness. Air flowed in and out of his lungs, reawakening the rest of his body. Liam stood over him, showing no worry of Kael attempting to flee.

  “Take your positions beside the well,” Liam ordered. “I will handle the remainder of the execution.”

  The two dipped their heads low and obeyed. Now alone, Liam knelt beside Kael and grabbed an end of the spool of rope at his feet.

  “Stay still, and do not fight me,” Liam said. “Let me work undistracted if you wish for a clean death.”

  “I’d rather not have a death at all,” Kael said.

  “And I’d rather not execute my son. This world is not made of our wishes, Kael, but of our actions. Yours have led us both to this moment.”

  It hurt listening to his father speak so callously, as if Kael’s impending death was nothing more than an inconvenience. What had happened to the man who’d told him stories of his visits to the other islands, of the wonderful caves of Candren and the sprawling glass gardens of Elern? The man who’d always been there to pick him up from the ground after a fall?

  Kael looked to the crowd, and he used his humor to hide the growing hurt. A bitter smile hid his tears. “Why such a small ceremony?” he asked. “I’m the brother of the Phoenix. Surely I’m worth a little bit of a grandeur.”

  “Your Archon requested your safe return,” Liam said. He looped the rope twice about Kael’s waist. “To deny him would endanger the negotiations we have begun, but to give in risks the wrath of our people. This little ceremony is our compromise. You will die a quiet, unheralded death. When asked, we will say your passing preluded any negotiations.”

  “Such unfortunate timing,” Kael muttered. “Isn’t it funny how things work out sometimes?”

  “You waged war against Center while spreading heresy,” Liam said. “You should be glad you will not suffer torture and h
umiliation before our citizens for your crimes.”

  Kael shook his head as he laughed.

  “You’re to drop me into a well, shatter my bones, and make a mess of my insides, yet you think I should thank you?” Tears trickled unwanted down his face. “I’m such a fool. I still thought my father was in there somewhere, but he’s not. You’re not even him. You’re just an ugly-hearted theotech wearing his skin.”

  Liam knelt closer. His hands paused, his knuckles white as he clutched the rope.

  “Do you still not understand?” he asked. “I am your father. I am the man who raised you, loved you, and sought only the best for your future. Why do you think I came to you in your cell? Why do you think I reached out with the Speaker’s mercy? I want you to live, Kael, but it must be on the path of righteousness. I would save your soul and sacrifice your body if I must, for it is far better than to salvage your body yet lose your soul forever.”

  Liam tied a knot along Kael’s waist, then looped the rope around the manacles holding his wrists together. Then came another knot.

  “That’s what you think this is?” Kael asked. He tried to hear his father, to find the heart beneath the awful words the Speaker had grafted onto his father’s mind. “You think this will save my soul?”

  “I don’t know,” Liam said. Three loops around the shoulders and chest. “But the presence of death can change a man. I know this well. The drop will feel like an eternity, my son. Reach out to God. Ask for his forgiveness, and I promise you, angels will be there to carry you into the golden eternity.”

  Kael struggled to control himself as his father tied another knot. There was too much sincerity there, and it made him hate Marius all the more. Liam loved him, and that love was now twisted and confused. Execution led to mercy. Death led to forgiveness. He truly believed it.

  “I’m not reaching out to God,” Kael said. His voice trembled. “I’m reaching out to you.”

  Liam shivered, and he refused to meet Kael’s gaze as he looped the rope into a cast from Kael’s elbows to his wrists, locking the arms together.

  “Do not reach for me,” he said. “I am imperfect and sinful. Listen instead to the Speaker’s words. Acknowledge his truths so you may find redemption.”

  “And what? You’ll let me live?”

  Finally, his father turned his way. Tears twinkled in the corners of his eyes, unfallen.

  “Your earthly fate is sealed, my son. Only your spiritual fate remains undecided.”

  Kael refused to break contact. His father was looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time. The crowd and soldiers seemed miles away. Just the two of them stood there upon the grass. Kael’s voice dropped to a whisper. No pretense at being tough. No mockery of the Speaker or his damned theotechs. Just honesty.

  “You’re right, father,” Kael said. “We must acknowledge the truth. Think back to who you were. Remember your pride as a Seraphim. As a father. Do you remember holding me and Bree as children? Do you remember all you did to raise us well? There was no sin there. You were a good man. You were a good father. I remember how mother looked at you. She loved you. We all did. We all still do. But what Marius says you are, what he’s carved into your skin, it isn’t you. It isn’t righteousness. It’s slavery.”

  Liam’s body trembled. At last the tears fell from his eyes unhindered. Kael sensed the raging turmoil within, a buried corpse struggling to free itself from the dirt.

  “It’s not too late,” Kael said, seizing the moment. “You have your wings. Fly us back to Weshern. You’d rather lose the body to save the soul? That’s how you do it, father. Fly us home, and fight against all who’d try to stop us, even if it means our deaths. There’s no salvation here, no righteousness, only damnation for dropping your own flesh and blood into a fucking well.”

  Liam was broken. Kael saw it so clearly. A broken, weeping semblance of the proud father who’d raised him. But his heart was there. It was beating. It was begging for a return to a happier past. Kael’s own tears poured forth, for at last he’d reached him, reviving his hope, reigniting that chance to be a family again.

  “Kael,” Liam said. He spoke the words as if it weighed a thousand pounds on his tongue. “I am the blade of the angels. I am the flesh on their bones. I am the blood on their feathers. What is holy must never break.”

  The prayer put the pieces of the man before him back together, and its form was nothing recognizable.

  “My mother and father died years ago together,” Kael said as Liam’s gold wings began to shimmer. “Dry your tears, knight of Center. I am not your son. I’m just an enemy about to die at the bottom of a well.”

  The length of rope went taut, lifting Kael’s bound arms up and over his head. The interconnected bonds tightened across his body, keeping him properly aligned and centered beneath his rising father. They hovered slightly to the east, to where the stone well awaited. The construction was more ornamental than the ones on Weshern. Built of white stone, its sides were wrapped with golden supports and gilded chains. Five silver angels stood around the well’s edge, their arms raised high in praise yet their heads bowed low in sorrow. In their center, swallowing all light and returning none, was the deep, hungry pit.

  Kael stared at the crowd, preferring their disgust over the cold alien being above him. He thought they might cheer, hurl insults, and mock his death. Instead they kept quiet, only whispering a few murmurs among themselves. They looked tired, Kael decided. Perhaps as drained as he was. Center had suffered under the fireborn’s arrival, and they’d lost thousands of men and women in the assault on Weshern. Their very way of life was threatened by the minor islands’ rebellion. Why wouldn’t they be exhausted by the last few weeks? Why wouldn’t they, like he, wish for it to be over?

  The haunting eyes of the nobles and soldiers rose with him, and Kael almost felt like their gaze propelled him upward instead of the scratchy, constricting rope.

  “People of Center!” Liam shouted when they reached the designated distance above the stone well. “I present you a traitor to God’s heavenly order, a spreader of war, a speaker of heresy, and a heart most stubborn to humility and redemption. For his crimes, I carry him here before you. For his sins, the Speaker has decreed he suffer the greatest fate suffered by traitors to heaven since before the very first days of man. From the arms of an angel, I drop him, and into the abyss below, he shall fall, to where not a ray of light shall touch his bones, nor his soul forever after.”

  The crowd cheered, and with surprising boisterousness. Perhaps Kael was wrong, and they weren’t quite defeated yet. They’d enjoy his suffering. Perhaps it would even give them a little respite from the sorrows of war. The rope lifted higher, Liam drawing in the slack so they might stare eye to eye. Kael noticed his father never spoke his name. Kael had a feeling his execution would be an open secret in Center, the kill denied in public yet celebrated in private.

  He’s wrong, Kael told himself. No dark hell awaited him. The Speaker did not voice the word of God. The blood of angels flowed through him, and he’d been blessed by L’fae to speak their word. Rage bubbled in his stomach, fueled by his pain and sorrow into a rapid boil.

  “Do his lies comfort you?” Kael shouted over his shoulder to the gathered crowd. Despite the pain in his throat, he was stunned by how loudly his words echoed across the plain. “Does condemning my soul make it easier to swallow my murder? Does my drop elevate your own meager lives? No angel holds me aloft, but angels will be there to catch my fall. I go not into the abyss, you damn fools, but your Speaker leads you to one by the throat. Listen! Demand truth, not comfort! Demand deliverance, not safety! Or can you not already hear the demons’ laughter as they come to feast?”

  Kael’s words shocked the crowd silent. No more cheers. No more claps or whistles. They stared at him as if he were a fiend of hell come to tear their lives asunder. It, unfortunately, reminded Kael of when the disciple of Johan had been improperly dropped to a well while he and his sister watched, his head splitti
ng open like a melon against the well’s stone lip. The disciple had yelled and screamed, yet none had changed their minds. At least Kael knew why the man had still railed to the very end. Watching those happy faces ready to cheer his death was beyond maddening.

  Liam lifted him higher, then turned him to face the crowd, his hands releasing the top of the rope to instead hold him by the chest. Kael thought him too cowardly to look him in the eye the moment he let go.

  “Threats and lies,” Liam said with trembling tongue. “They do not sway the faithful.”

  “This is your last chance,” Kael whispered, ignoring the vapid rhetoric. He had to cling to hope. He had to save his father. “You can still come back to us. Don’t let go, father. Please. Don’t let go.”

  “I … I am the blade,” Liam stammered. “I am the blade. I am the blade.”

  Kael could no longer listen to his father’s words. Instead he looked out over the forest. To the distant glint of silver.

  “I am faithful,” Liam continued. “I am loyal. And I will suffer all I must on this world so I might meet your mother again in the next.”

  Another shimmer of silver, then another. A thin streak of fire trailed after the lead, closing in at tremendous speed. Fresh tears wet Kael’s eyes. He was not abandoned. His sister had come to save him. Even if they would be too late, he could take solace in knowing they’d made such a sacrifice.

  “May you find peace in the hereafter,” Liam said. “May the angels carry you to your final resting place. Your life, and death, are no longer in my hands. I give them over to God’s.”

  His father let him go. The moment passed in startling clarity. The hollow look in Liam’s eyes. The vibrant blue of the sky painted with random strokes of white. The faintest moment of weightlessness before gravity’s pull dragged him down with ever-increasing greed.

  The fall will feel like eternity, Liam had said, and he spoke true. Kael felt his world slow as he looked to the circle of black surrounded by uplifted arms of silver angels. Would Bree even see his body? Would she have the strength? They couldn’t reach him in time. The well would swallow him before they caught his fall.