Chapter 11
Falin yawned and adjusted the small pair of glasses that rested gingerly on the bridge of his nose. As he leaned over the large musty manual on his desk, rogue locks fell into his face prompting him to run his fingers through his haphazardly styled hair for the hundredth time that night. He looked up from his book in search of a flask of purple liquid sitting nearby. Carefully reading over the spell again, he stood and spoke quietly.
“Solum,” he said as he began to slowly pour the liquid into a mortar containing the green powder of a crushed emerald. “Earth of my fathers lend strength to my will.”
“Ignis,” he breathed. “Dark flames of fire fuel my intent.” The concoction began to fizzle and pop as a stream of red smoke began billowing out. “Piaculum.” A chilled breeze blew out of nowhere changing the red smoke blue.
“Ancient fire, whose touch doth burn
guide me through your arcane verse.
Aid me in my earnest plea.
Take away this baneful curse.
Magic flow. To my will, bend.
Power grow. Answers send.
Spellsprings surge like mighty founts.
Mortal spell, be now renounced.”
He whispered intensely waving his hand artfully over the fuming mortar. Falin sighed and eyed the container dreadingly. “It is done,” he said diffidently to himself. He raised the mortar to his lips, closed his eyes, and with one gulp consumed the brew. The marble bowl fell from his hand shattering on the floor as he winced in pain placing one hand to his chest to slow his racing heart. The brew was that of liquid fire rending body from soul. He returned to his chair, shaking, and rested his head wearily on his hand as he began to reread the rest of the spell.
Falin had closed his eyes for a moment to rid himself of a growing headache when the door to his laboratory flew open. Without lifting his head from his hand he turned ever so slightly to see Arathyn storm in the room. He weakly sat up “Arathyn, what...”
Arathyn had covered the distance of the room in little more than two steps. He grabbed Falin by the collar of his silken white shirt and threw him into a shelf bearing flasks of various colored liquids. The shelf and all of its content fell to the ground shattering around Falin, who sat on the ground in confusion. A jagged gash on his head, caused by one of the broken flask, began bleeding profusely. He put his hand to his head, knocking his glasses to the floor, as he felt the oozing blood fall across his face. Falin looked at his blood covered hand and then at Arathyn who was drawing his sword. “My god, Arathyn, have you gone mad?” Falin asked with disbelief.
“You let him hurt her,” Arathyn said as he gnashed his teeth together and held his sword to Falin‘s exposed throat. “You deserted her and lied to me.”
Ana entered the room and was horrified by the scene. Falin was sitting on the floor amid shards of broken glass. His face was pallid; but it was a serene confidence, not fear, that shown in his reddened eyes. Scarlet red ribbons streamed over his face as he held his hand to the cut on his head futilely trying to stanch the bleeding. Arathyn was standing over him with his sword drawn, face flushed, staring at him with disdain. Ana ran over to Falin blocking him from Arathyn’s fury.
“Ana, get out of the way,” Arathyn commanded.
“I will not,” she defied him. “Sheath your sword, and stop this nonsense.”
“He failed you,” he spat. “How can you now protect him?”
“I did fail you, Ana,” Falin said as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Ana put her arm around his waist to help him balance as they walked out of the broken remains of the shelf. She could feel him shudder beneath her supporting grasp. Falin continued. “I should have been there for you...with you. I’m so sorry.” Ana felt her face warm as she heard the angst-ridden remorse in his voice. Arathyn was unmoved.
“Did you go to see your whore, Falin? Is that why this happened?” Falin’s face took on a sickly shade. He started to say something, but finding it insufficient he stopped. Ana turned to look at him with timorous curiosity. A slight hint of jealousy began welling up in her. Falin looked on Arathyn with utter despair.
“What do you want from me, Arathyn?” he implored his voice trembled with guilt.
“An admission of your fault,” Arathyn said coldly.
“I did return to the inn,” Falin started, his words rushed, “but not for the reason you suspect. I had gone with the intention of ...,” he briefly paused to sort through his words remembering not to let slip anything that would antagonize Arathyn, “Of protecting Ana. I was marked for attacked by of the ring I carry. I have somehow attracted the interest of Kălor once more. I left hoping our pursuers would follow me leaving Ana in safety. The inn was the only place I knew of that I could stay. While in the village, I figured it would be a good time to talk to Celeste about ending the relationship we had.”
“That wasn’t a relationship,” Arathyn scoffed. “She was a harlot.”
“Either way, things did not go as I had planned.” A pained expression crossed his face.
“You slept with her, Falin?” Ana asked quietly interrupting their conversation. She hid her disappointment and jealousy as best she could. Arathyn didn’t pick up on the sentiment conveyed in her voice; but to Falin, who expected his admissions to upset her, her feelings overshadowed her words. He could not meet her gaze.
“Don’t be silly, Ana, of course he did,” Arathyn answered. “Honor is not an obligatory asset for a sorcerer. No matter,” Arathyn continued turning back to Falin. “I care little for your intentions, Falin, or your actions and apologies. You failed in your duties and sacrificed Ana’s safety for your carnal pleasures.”
“That’s not how it was, Arathyn,” Falin said angrily. He had begun to tire of Arathyn’s accusations. “I did fail, but I would never,” he emphasized, “knowingly place her in harm’s way. And I will not fail again.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“And so it shall be anon. The counter-curse is completed. All that is left is the incantation, which I must say over Ana.” He walked back to his desk and read over his manual again before returning to Ana. Falin started whispering the arcane words as he waved his hands over Ana, who closed her eyes as magical threads of blue energy began swirling about her. He reached out towards it, drawing it to him. His fevered chant upsurged growing to a thunderous level, threatening to momentarily deafen those around him. Spectral winds encircled him whipping scrolls and small books into the whirlwinding air.
A final word bellowed from his lips called forth the close of the spell. The wind and energy that abounded was drawn into Falin throwing him across the room and into his desk with bone-breaking force. He slid down the desk-front and flopped inertly to the floor like a rag doll tossed aside by a disinterested child. Arathyn, who had been watching with scorn, stood in silent awe. Ana opened her eyes when she heard the crash and saw Falin lying in front of his desk stirring slightly trying to catch his breath.
“Falin, are you okay?” she asked rushing over to him. Unable to speak, he nodded his head “yes” in affirmation.
“Ana,” Arathyn regained his voice. “Perhaps, you should turn in for the night.” Ana began to protest as she helped Falin in to a sitting position on the floor, but Arathyn interrupted. “Please, Ana, Falin and I need to talk.” Ana eyed him warily. “I will not hurt him. You have my word.” Arathyn sheathed his sword.
“Falin?” Ana questioned worriedly. Falin raised his hand and nodded his head telling her that he would be okay. “Fine, Arathyn; but when you have finished here, find me. There are words that need to be exchanged between us.” She stood and left the room quietly.
“That was powerful magic, Falin,” Arathyn said coolly restraining his amazement after Ana had gone. Falin just looked up at him from the floor still panting. “Is the curse gone?”
Falin shook his head. “No, I cannot break this curse. Only its caster can. It’s too strong. Stronger than any I’ve seen. What you witnessed was a protection spell only. Any injury Kălor’s spell causes will affect me first. When…if the spell kills me, only then will it then affect her. Hopefully, it’s not strong enough to...,” he paused. “Hopefully, it will not come to that.”
“You’re willing to die for her,” Arathyn marveled.
“Aren’t you?” Falin asked.
“Well, of course I am; but...” Arathyn stopped. “Gods, you do love her,” he realized with amazement.
“No...no, I do not,” Falin could not meet Arathyn’s gaze for fear he would see the truth. “I did it for you. I owed you at least that much.” He paused. “I owed her at least that much.”
“Walk with me, Falin,” he said helping him to his feet. Falin stood taking the cloth off of his desk to wipe the blood from his face.
Falin and Arathyn exited the castle into the main garden and walked through the maze of shrubbery and flowers.
“You could have killed me with a snap of your fingers, Falin, couldn’t you,” Arathyn asked.
“You were never in any danger, Arathyn.”
“That was not my question.”
Falin hesitated. “I suppose I could have, but no easier than you could have eviscerated me with your sword.”
Arathyn chuckled. “I would have tried to if Ana didn’t intercede; would you have let me?”
“I don’t believe you would have. I know you, Arathyn; you would have stayed your hand.”
“I may have come very close before I regained my composure. Would you not have protected yourself?”
“I would not have acted to harm you if that’s what you’re asking. I trust enough in your training and morals and, above all, our friendship, not to fear you.”
Arathyn shook his head. “You must forgive me, Falin; I’ve been such a fool. I have painfully misjudged you,” he laughed in spite of himself. “I thought of you still as the mischievous, impetuous boy of our youth; but I see I have overlooked the powerful man, who hides behind that youthful visage, the one who truly befriended me those many years ago. I am ashamed of my actions, and I beg for your forgiveness.”
“There is no need for apologies, Arathyn. We have both made mistakes, but we must now be more vigilant in our actions. I feel the stakes are rising. We may find ourselves fighting not just for Amaranthe, but for our very lives and souls.”
Solum: land, country; Ignis: Fire; Piaculum: Sacrifice, victim
Mercedes A Boggs / Text 4 of 18 / The Betrayal of Amaranthe: Chapter 11
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A. R. Cox
There're more on the way, right? (wink wink nudge nudge) I was reading too fast to pick up any mistakes and I doubt there are any, it was so good! But a side-note on Ana; I really liked her at the beginning of the story, so cool and confident and fighting for justice, etc. but now she's seems to have changed a lot. I understand the whole torture thing with Kalor, but she's fallen into a stereotypical pathetic-helpless-female-depending-on-the-man-to-save-her character. In my opinion...Falin is ultimately cool though! And I really admire Arathyn with the whole honour thing going on. Great chapters, keep them coming!
Rachel sharon edidin
Emma Lydia Bates
A.R. George