The Blind Valiant

HALF SO FAIR.

Sharur chased after the two culprits of the mayhem at Montparnasse, kicking his horse for more speed to catch up in the chase after the fleeting shadows.

The ambush his uncle, the Madrigal had thought to lay on the Fell rebel responsible for the gala attack and the abduction of his cousin had been without a doubt a half success.

 For one we found Kyrillos and he looked generally in good health.

 And for another, the mad man had helped a rebel of the Fell terrorist group escape, had fought his own family and damn well destroyed a city to do it.

 Sharur was terribly confused and riddled with intense need to get his cousin back- to help him out of the mania he was obviously riddled with.

Uncle Manfri had used necromancy to bring him.

 Necromancy, by the Divines! Did he not know it would have repercussions?

 He came into sights of them, the two horses they had stolen were galloping at their insistent zeal to escape.

 Trees zipped past him, sounds of hooves striking the ground loomed closer and closer as they kicked their steeds faster.

 But Sharur had been trained to ride since he was no less than five. He was particularly good with animals but he couldn’t very well tell the horses to throw them off.

 Maybe just the Fell.

Before he could decide to coax out a spell for that, he saw the ground a few feet ahead crack open for three lichts to tear themselves from the earth, turning their undead hollow eyes to Sharur before leaping for him.

 Sharur conjured a sword with a flash of light and slashed at them, throwing the other off with a manæ force but not destroying them.

He brought the sword to his lips and muttered the enchantment to imbue the blade with flames, all the while keeping on track with Kyrillos and the rebel.

 This time when the blade severed through the bones and rotted flesh of the dead, they erupted into flames. Sharur turned his eyes forward. They were heading for the hillside that was cut off by the river.

 With an urgent kick, he spurred his horse and with careful aim threw the sword and in midair Sharur muttered a spell that changed the sword into the form of a spear.

 It struck the rear leg of the horse Kyrillos was riding on, throwing the horse down in severe agony.

His cousin toppled over, rolling and rolling and slamming into rocks and trees till Sharur barked out a spell that shot a branch from the earth and into his hand.

 He jumped off his horse and with one hand on the branch the other grabbed hold of the collar of Kyrillos’ tunic as Sharur broke his fall. He let out a deep dusty cough.

 “Are you alright?” Sharur uttered through a moan from his aching back.

“You killed my horse and threw me off! Never thought you’d be that reckless.” Kyrillos protested with a laugh.

Sharur chuckled, “I’m reckless? You’re the one who just rendered an entire city with an lightning storm and travelling with a Fell fugitive. Is my mother right, are you dangerous... our enemy? What in the name of the Divines is going on, Kyrillos?”

 Kyrillos looked at the man who seemed to even understand him even now that he couldn’t understand anything that was happening to him.

Sharur had taken a pause to save him and ask him as concerned as he always had been.

 “You saw what happened back there. Manfri... he wants to kill me... your mother has tried twice already. And I don’t know why. I have to know... something’s wrong with me, Sharur and it is not what Manfri says it is.”

 Sharur pulled them up from the slope. “Then let me help you. Not our parents, but me. We’ve always trusted each other, Kyrillos.” His eyes pleaded.

Instead Kyrillos shook his head. “I can’t trust anyone...” His words trailed as the sound of a galloping horses came to their notice and with a sharp look, they both saw the unmistakable colors of the Echelon.

 But before Kyrillos gathered the swirling energies that allowed him to escape, he leaned in close to the cousin who might not even be his family and said the few words he didn't even understand.

 At least it is something he can help me with without me trusting him.

“What the hell does that mean?” Sharur demanded frantically and a little annoyed.

Kyrillos smiled sadly. “All I know is that, that is why I must go. But you’ll figure it out.” but Kyrillos shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t say it.

 He stepped and allowed the swirling fog of dark purple manæ to engulf him and transport him where he was sure the Fell was waiting.

                                             ~ ♤ ~

 “He made us look like fools!” Louscha leaned back to the wall, getting the right angle to view the inside of the Madrigal’s private rooms.

 She had seen them return from searching for Kinship sympathizers but their bloodied armour and frustrated scowls told her something more had happened.

 With one look at the vortex pillars told her they had just been in Montparnasse and it seemed whatever sympathizers they had found had left the Madrigal’s small squadron in ruins.

 And it only took her a little time listening to those who had survived to realize that her husband and his sister had gone after Kyrillos.

 And failed. Her fiancé was without a doubt frustrated and angry. Even his sister seemed to flinch at his temper.

 “He’s had some level of training with his sorcery. It’s impossible to think it but it only explains today.” Lady Severa answered.

“Yes you made note of that before. But that... how could he have such efficient command of it in such a short time? The years under the Miasma should’ve diminished everything he would remember about himself, about his abilities.”

 “Or the years made the spell weak enough for his aiyar to push through even stronger. We will try again; the echoes might have been removed but we can still trap them.”

 What... did they do something to Kyrillos’ memories?               

 The Madrigal turned his aggrieved face to his sister and insisted hotly. “Capture him only. No harm should come to him, Severa. I want him back under the Miasma.”

 Severa gaped at her brother, baffled at his suggestion, “You have got to be joking? He isn’t your son, Manfri! Don’t be deceived by whatever sentiment you may have grown to have for him! That... boy laid waste to an entire city, a legion of guards and a dozen Potentates fell to a power I’ve never seen before. Not to talk more that he is in the company of a powerful Kinship agent.”

 Kyrillos is not Manfri’s son? What does that mean? Had the Madrigal fostered a child?

Lord Manfri hollered back. “If you knew half the burdens of my title and not envying it for these years, you would know that that boy is far more important to us alive than dead.”

 Severa sighed, “Then tell me. I’ve only known what you deem necessary to share, tell me why I shouldn't just rent his soul from his body the next time I see him.”

 Louscha’s heart was speeding away as she eavesdropped at the dark threat her sister-in-law had just made.

 Kyrillos... what sort of mess have you put yourself in?

Her eyes peeping through the crack in the door but she pulled back when Manfri’s gaze flickered to the floor briefly.

 “Open your mind to me,” The Madrigal turned back to Severa.

 Louscha had no adept skill in the sorceries as the Noirish did. Though her maternal line was said to have been blessed by sorcerer, the gift of manæ had been absent for two generations.

 But she watched Severa’s reaction to whatever the Madrigal had revealed in her mind.

 “By the Divines!” she gasped out with utter terror written over her face. “Why the hell has he been kept alive all this time?”

“That doesn’t concern you. All you need to know is, it is imperative Kyrillos is brought back under our custody otherwise everything this family has built since the time of Lavinia till now will be torn down to smithereens.”

 Louscha blinked at such an ultimatum. The Mortimers were the most powerful Noirish family in Evvoia, some even believed they descended from the Everking himself.

 It was part of the reason her uncle had arranged this faux of a marriage with Lord Manfri who was old enough to be her father. The other reasons were what was making her spy on this conversation.

  “But there is another matter to which I asked you here. How closer are we to the alternative of the Cleansing you suggested to me?”

 “I... I’m not much closer to formulating a reverse design than when we started.” Severa’s response came.

“What’s the problem? I have given you all the materials needed. I made sure the Pontiff gave me Marrąk so that you would have access to Athalia’s experiments.”

 “The nature of the Left Palm is unpredictable; exhibiting itself in too many diverse ways that it is near impossible to define its core and engineer a spell strong enough to achieve what we want.”

 Manfri was others annoyed at that. “So in other words we failed... you failed.”

 “No, the measures we have put in place-”

“Are not working.” Manfri all but hollered at his sister who, Louscha noticed frowned upon but was still shaken by his displeasure.

“We have outlawed their breeding, we’ve confined their movements to colonies and settlements, we track and police them. These measures have been used for more than a millennium yet their population grows exponentially. We have until solstice before the Pontiff calls for another Cleansing.”

 “Then the sooner we secure Kyrillos back to us, the faster the progress will be. I have a feeling his quickening abilities will be a breakthrough,” Severa closed the space between her and her brother. “Either, Manfri, we must make sure he is in our grasp in case he becomes a threat.”

 How could one man pose a threat to such a legacy? She had to ask herself as she withdrew away from spying.

But before she could walk away, the doors opened and Severa ambled out of the room and saw her.

 Louscha noticed the smear of blood on her clothes and disheveled hair, and a smell of burning caused by lightning strike wafted about her.

 “Severa, you don’t look...” she started realizing her sister-in-law was staring intently at her.

But the older woman managed a smile and waved off her concerned words. “I’m fine, nothing a bath and some salves won't fix. I heard you and Melek did a good job of rounding up possible suspects to the gala attack?”

 “It was my fiancé’s will. And I’ll do what I can for the sake of the family.” She responded in a perfectly rehearsed manner.

Being a princess had at least taught her how to conceive a lie as truth but matching Lady Severa’s stare with hers told her that this woman was just as adept in seeing through such deception.

 It wasn’t exactly a lie but she had just been eavesdropping to find out what was going on with Kyrillos. She cared about him and whether he might or mightn't be a Mortimer, Kyrillos still had a place in her heart.

 Louscha smiled, “I’d best go in and see to Manfri.”

 Severa nodded, her hawk like gaze still trained on her. “Yes, he’s in need of gentle hands.” Louscha swallowed and went through the room, refraining from looking back at the domineering woman.

 The Madrigal’s riadh was circular and large, taking up half the space of the east wing on the third floor of the Reliquary.

 Louscha had been in here almost as much as she had been in any other place in the building.

She found piles of discarded and clothes soiled with blood and dirt, and armor plates on the marble ground and heard the rushing of water from the privy room.

 Louscha took in a deep breath and walked in that direction, pushing the gilded inlaid door as she entered.

 Her husband-to-be was halfway immersed in the pool of heated water that scented of jasmine and lily. The muscles of his broad shoulders tensed as he turned about to see her enter.

 Dark jade eyes ran up and down her frame, a conscious feeling seized her as it always did whenever she was met with his penetrative look.

 It was almost the same as being looked at by Kyrillos. When she had seen the man her aunt had betrothed her to, for the first time, she had tried to see how much alike father and son were.

 There were a lot when it came to appearances but otherwise Kyrillos could have been the son of a different man.

He just might very well be the son of a different man.

 “You’re still here.” He noted hoarsely.

Louscha went behind him and dropped to her knees, taking the sponge from his hands. “I have nowhere to go back to. My home is here now... my duty is to be at your side.”

 She continued to scrub the lather down his shoulders and his back, letting her mind drift with the monotony of her actions.