Cassius and Ellendarra Page 2

  “We have remained at peace across the realm. Nothing that would empower the darkness within you has been tolerated to any degree. You should be able to hide out here for quite some time. I have designated it hallowed ground, forbidden to all,” Magnus said and looked over at the small temple made of marble that stood nearby, framed with magnificent columns and partially concealed by enormous willow trees. Cassius followed his gaze and sighed.

  “My prison cell . . . ,” he mumbled.

  “Again with the pessimism, Cassius? You could do a lot worse. I’ll bring over some new books, and . . .”

  “You would be hard-pressed to find a book I haven’t read or a skill I haven’t perfected . . . an instrument I haven’t played, a game I haven’t mastered—”

  “It is only until we find a way to extract the evil from you,” Magnus interrupted.

  “It has been decades,” Cassius scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

  “I know. I am sorry for that. I promise you, we are looking into every possible solution. We will find a way to extract the evil and destroy it for good so that life can continue the way it was meant to . . . for you as well, Brother.”

  “Magnus, you know as well as I that there is a slim chance I’ll survive—”

  “I’ll walk you to the temple,” Magnus interrupted gruffly before proceeding toward the structure at a quickened pace. Cassius gave a defeated sigh and followed him. “Have you been training?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  “What would I need to train for? I am the most powerful being in the entire realm,” Magnus stated and rolled his eyes.

  “Is that so?” Cassius asked with a smirk and vanished in a flash of red before reappearing directly in front of the king.

  “You wouldn’t dare—”

  Magnus hadn’t the time to finish his sentence before Cassius sent a blast of magical energy directly at him. It hit but did little damage, merely sending the king backward into a tree.

  Magnus righted himself and glared at his brother before retaliating with an attack of his own. They battled with their blue and red energy, both men easily deflecting or shielding themselves from any damage until Magnus got fed up and conjured a particularly lethal blast. He hurled the magical energy at Cassius, who made a large, steel sword materialize in his hands, the blade coated in his magical aura with the same electrical current Magnus had seen earlier woven throughout. Cassius sliced through the blast, extinguishing it instantly before lunging at the king, who was forced to produce a sword of his own.

  They parried only a few times before Cassius got the upper hand and Magnus called out, “That’s enough. Swords? Really? What are we, barbarians?” he scoffed, and the sword vanished.

  “You need to know how to defend yourself, Magnus,” Cassius stated calmly and got rid of his own sword with a wave of his free hand.

  “Who could possibly pose a threat?” Magnus laughed arrogantly.

  “Me,” Cassius stated seriously with a steady gaze.

  Magnus dropped his arms to his sides and shook his head dismissively. “It won’t come to that. I won’t allow it,” he stated firmly. “I’ve left you some booze. Lots of booze,” he added and gestured toward the temple.

  “Thanks,” Cassius said, laughing. “You won’t stay and catch up?”

  “No, if I’m out all night, I won’t wake in time to see her,” Magnus stated absentmindedly. He froze immediately, and his face paled slightly, realizing his error.

  “Her?” Cassius exclaimed, his eyes wide and an amused smile plastered across his face. “Don’t tell me the king with the ice-cold heart . . .”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have an important matter to address with a soldier in the morning. That is all.”

  “Alright,” Cassius answered defensively, but his smile remained, and it further irked the king.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Magnus stated abruptly and used what was left of his energy to transport himself back to the palace in a flash of blue light.

  Cassius chuckled to himself at his brother’s discomfort. Five years had passed, yet it felt like no time had been lost at all, like he had only had a night’s rest. The physical toll on his body said otherwise, however—a fact he had chosen not to share with his brother. His muscles ached, and there was a throbbing pain in his temples that had only just begun to lessen. Desperate for a way to pass the time and keep the evil at bay, it had been his idea to be put under the enchantment. He couldn’t do much of anything and couldn’t see anyone outside of the prophet and Magnus to any lengthy extent, although on the rare occasion, he had ventured into the nearby village in a disguise for some chance at brief human contact.

  But it wouldn’t be long before he would be forced to retreat to the sanctuary of the forest. Being around people, their fear and hatred, greed and misery, he could feel the evil twisting inside his heart when he was exposed to it. If it ever were released, if it ever took over, Evlontus would be no more. And so, he made his way into the temple, opened one of the bottles of rum Magnus had graciously left him, and sat down, completely alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning began the same way as it had the last few days. The entirety of the king’s oversize bed began to glow blue, softly at first before increasing in intensity, followed by heat. Magnus slept soundly under the heavy covers and on pillows of down, oblivious to the sensation that would have instantaneously woken any other mortal. Magnus was a notoriously deep sleeper, and because he found it difficult, to say the least, to rise with the sun, he had no choice but to enchant his own bed with magic that would wake him from his slumber.

  The temperature continued to rise, a gradual effort that eventually led to a last resort: a gentle electric shock. Still nothing. Finally, as though the magic were reluctant to complete its task, an intense concentration of energy jolted the king awake. He leaped from the bed, fearfully holding on to one of the oak bedposts as the energy extinguished itself and his room returned to normal.

  He groaned loudly and pulled himself up to stand, allowing his body time to recover completely as it was inclined to do on its own, thanks to his magic. He exhaled sharply and moved his head from side to side, stretching his neck and then his arms before moving over to the large mirror on the other side of the room. His dark hair was just long enough to resemble a bird’s nest in the mornings, and he wasn’t sure how it consistently got that way when he was sure he remained virtually motionless when asleep.

  He ran his hands over his face to bring both body and mind to a state that was fully awake before completely altering his appearance with a quick gesture of his hands and a bit of magic. With his hair neatly in place, beard trimmed meticulously, skin flawless, and royal robes made of the finest materials known to Evlontus, he looked once again like the king of all kings that he was. He traced the symbols and scrollwork woven with golden thread that lined the top layer of his clothing. The greatest seamstress in the capital had once articulated such details by hand. She had completed all of his many magnificent garments. But with time and the repeated wear of each piece, Magnus was now able to re-create his clothing from memory in the blink of an eye, a difficult skill to learn that he had easily mastered at a young age.

  He paused, though, feeling dissatisfied with his appearance. He felt compelled to tone down the pageantry in the hopes that it might put Ellendarra at ease should their paths happen to cross that morning. Since Captain Japheth’s injury and his lengthy stay at the palace had begun, she had visited consistently at the same time every day.

  The first time they had encountered one another at the infirmary had been an accident. On one particular day, he had been forced into an early-morning meeting with Basil, who just so happened to be checking on Japheth when Ellendarra arrived and consequently brought them together. Prior to that day, he had only crossed paths with her during discussions with Japheth and ceremonial occasions to bestow honors upon the soldiers. Not since she ha
d been brought before him to be judged for her crimes in her previous life had she been so close. Magnus had then made a point of trying to wake at the same time after that, although most often he failed and missed her by several hours. But on the days where he had succeeded, they had talked at length, and her company filled the void that had been left by his brother and only friend.

  He was surprised by the realization that he had come to rely so heavily on his friendship with Cassius to bring joy to his seemingly endless days. The fact that he was looking forward to seeing her had alarmed the king at first, but he was quick to dismiss it as nothing of concern, for he had convinced himself that it was merely the result of the human need for socialization. The prophet, of course, had been beside himself with worry since immediately noticing the familiar tones with which the king spoke to his would-be killer. The prophecy of his death had been a heavily guarded secret between Magnus and the prophet since Japheth had first brought Ellendarra to them, but it surprisingly had never given rise to fear in the king. If anything, it had only created intense intrigue and an odd sense of peace.

  With an outstretched hand placed on his chest, he willed the transformation of his attire into what he might wear when traveling. His long-sleeved tunic was made of thick cloth, colored black and dark gray with the royal crest embroidered in gold over his heart. The crest featured two swords behind a shield with the outline of an oak tree at its center. His dark pants and boots were not suitable for any ceremonial address but were impressive nonetheless. He straightened his collar and the golden amulet with an emerald green stone in its center that hung from his neck. He nodded with approval, noting that the dark tones of his clothing gave him a more youthful appearance and made his dark brown eyes stand out. Not that I’m trying to impress anyone, he reminded himself.

  He made his way down the corridor, drawing a few second looks from the guards and servants who did not immediately recognize him but snapped to attention when they did. He ignored them as a king was expected to do and carried on, making his way to the royal infirmary in the east wing of the palace. Before he turned down the last corridor, he slowed his pace, wondering if perhaps today was the day she might not be there. But sure enough, as he made his way around the corner, he could see her up ahead.

  Ellendarra was leaning with her back against the wall for support while massaging her temples with her fingertips, her eyes closed. Magnus continued his slow pace, wondering how close he could get before she noticed him. “Good morning,” he greeted her with a hint of amusement on his face.

  Ellendarra’s eyes shot open, and she stumbled forward slightly as she rushed to stand at attention before bowing respectfully. “Your Highness,” she said wearily before standing straight once more.

  Magnus’s eyes widened with alarm to see a small contusion on the left side of her head above her temple. The bruising had already begun to turn a bluish-purple color and appeared to be causing her a great deal of pain. Without thinking, he stepped forward, raised his hand near to the side of her face, and healed her using a brief, blue light. He looked down at the expression of surprise on her face and remembered himself, immediately stepping backward and putting proper distance between them once more.

  Ellendarra traced with her fingertips where the wound had been, awed by what he had just done. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Struck by the hilt of a sword yesterday,” she added with a smile and a shrug.

  “A most impressive victory,” Magnus stated with as much of a regal tone as he could muster.

  “If only the same magic could be used to revive the captain . . . ,” Ellendarra said sadly and looked over at the door next to her.

  “If only,” Magnus agreed nervously. “Shall we?” He opened the door and gestured inside.

  Ellendarra paused a moment with a look of dread on her face before entering the room. The curtains were partially closed, leaving just enough light to illuminate the palace infirmary. It was a room that had been used since the earliest kings for private care and recovery and as such there was no expense spared. The heavy mauve colored curtains were made of the finest material and trimmed with gold thread. The walls were adorned with marvelous paintings and armoires and cabinets filled any space available between, hiding within them the many tools and potions needed to provide a swift recovery.

  She slowly made her way over to the large bed where Japheth lay unconscious and sat next to him, holding his hand in hers. She noted the beard and unruly, dark hair, a stark contrast to his usual close shave and indicative of the time that had passed. But, for the most part, his body appeared perfectly frozen in time and not subject to what would usually befall a person trapped in an unconscious state. Magnus followed to the foot of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I passed by his nurse when I entered the palace. She said there have been no signs of improvement,” Ellendarra said solemnly. “He remains completely unresponsive.” She squeezed his hand as she gazed upon him but did not attempt to call out to him as she had during previous visits. “I should have been able to protect him . . . this is all my fault.”

  “What?” Magnus asked in alarm. “No, no, there was nothing you could have done,” he said hurriedly, feeling guilty that she would take on blame for something he had done.

  She looked at him with her enchanting, blue eyes, and his heart sank.

  “I would have given my life for his. But the Cassian soldier who struck him with the poisoned blade would not engage with me when I tried to assist Japheth. He was stronger than any enemy we have faced before. It was like his movements were infused with magic, his strength beyond that of mere mortals. At first, I thought it must be Cassius himself, disguised under a mask. But his eyes were visible, and they were not blue and green as the legend says.”

  “Well, you mustn’t lose hope just yet. Japheth is safe here, and the prophet and I will do everything we can to reverse this enchantment he is under.”

  “I have every faith in you, Your Highness,” she said, although the look of hopelessness in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

  “In the meantime, there is an important matter that I wish to discuss with you. We have yet to formally declare you captain in Japheth’s absence. The other day more than proved your capabilities, and I am sure it is what he would want,” the king stated firmly.

  “It would be an honor, Your Highness,” Ellendarra said as she rose from the bed and bowed her head.

  “However, your past allegiances have drawn . . . concerns from the prophet. He suggested that perhaps if you were to allow him to perform a soul reading, it might put us in a better position of trust.” Magnus appeared reluctant to even suggest it to her.

  She remained emotionless for the most part but seemed intrigued by the request. She moved farther from the bed to stand next to the king, wrapping her arms around herself and looking at the floor as she did so, seemingly contemplating what he had said.

  “I have heard of these soul readings. The person in question must grant the prophet access to their soul so that he might gain a clearer insight into future events concerning their allegiance,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Yes. You see, when Cassius drained the magic from our realm, it left the prophet with limits on his abilities. He has had to find ways to amplify his magic, otherwise, he is left with only bits and pieces that can often be . . . misinterpreted.” Magnus said the last word with resentment and rolled his eyes.

  “It has been quite some time since I’ve heard of one being performed—”

  “We have been fortunate enough to live in times of peace,” Magnus interrupted. If she were to refuse, he knew he would give in to her wishes and tell Basil to go to hell. But if she agreed willingly . . . he couldn’t deny his curiosity about the potential revelations.

  “Why wasn’t I subjected to one when I was first brought to you for judgment?” she asked after a long pause.

  It was then Magnus’s turn to be silent as he tried to think of an excuse.

  “You
had been through so much . . . being raised to follow Cassius and think of us as the enemy . . . and then making the decision to switch sides and save Japheth by killing your own father. You single-handedly dismantled the resistance movement,” Magnus rambled on nervously.

  The king remembered that day well. Ellendarra was brought before him to be sentenced for her crimes, still covered in her father’s blood, with Japheth desperately pleading her case. Magnus had held up a hand for silence and looked her in the eyes, allowing his instinct to guide him as he always did. He felt no threat when he looked upon her. He felt something else. Perhaps it had been their shared connection of having to kill their own fathers, whatever the reason. He granted her a complete pardon right there on the spot, much to Basil’s dismay.

  Ellendarra shamefully looked down at the floor for a brief moment, contemplating his reasoning, before a look of determination overcame her features. She stood straight and placed her hands at her sides.

  “The prophet may perform his soul reading. I have nothing to hide, Your Highness,” she said firmly.