Wrath of Lions

CHAPTER 14

Manse DuTaureau was an expansive structure. Its main hall stretched for nearly a quarter mile, and at its center, crossroads split off into four separate wings. There were fifty rooms-bedrooms, common rooms, dining halls, meeting rooms, vast closets, and two libraries-all built by Ashhur himself at the request of his second child, Isabel. The east and west wings were where the family DuTaureau kept their residence, their chambers small yet stylishly furnished. The main entrance and the atrium, where the family had once spent quiet evenings, were on the southern end. That space was now used to greet the many citizens who came to pay their respects to King Benjamin, the first ruler of Paradise. The northern wing ended in what had once been a dining hall and had now been transformed into the throne room-Paradise’s seat of human power.

Ahaesarus marched through the atrium, following fast on the heels of Erstwell Karn, the man Isabel had placed in charge of repairing the hangars lining the township’s eastern road in preparation for what was to come. Crops were being pushed hard, the people using the magics Ashhur had taught them to bring corn, grain, carrots, turnips, and other assorted vegetables to seed early and often. After only a few weeks, the barns were already a third full, and the last thing anyone needed was for the structures to topple, destroying food that would be necessary for survival once Karak fell upon the area.

Erstwell had caught up with Ahaesarus outside the manse while the Warden was heading inside for a conference with King Benjamin. The man had pled with Ahaesarus to see to a rule-breaker who was stowed away inside, accused of sneaking in to visit the still-imprisoned Geris Felhorn.

“She’s down here,” Erstwell said.

They progressed down the main hall, passing two privies and the southern kitchen. Daylight filtered in through the narrow gaps between rooms, making the brilliant reds stitched into the carpets pop. The man finally stopped when they reached the central junction. He pushed open a door to his left, the wooden hinges creaking as they swiveled inward.

The room had been used for meetings; he could tell as much by the large table of polished mahogany in the center surrounded by eight chairs, and the stand showcasing a loosely rendered map of Paradise. The walls were stone, sanded down and lacquered with a yellowish gloss. It was an ugly color, one that made Ahaesarus’s legs twitch. He noticed he was not alone in that sentiment, as the girl who sat at the table seemed to be vibrating her own legs fast enough to take flight. She stared up at him with frightened blue eyes. Her hair, a satiny shade of strawberry blonde, flowed over the roughspun, brown smock she wore. She was young and quite beautiful, even with her simple attire.

Erstwell spat on the floor. “There she is,” he said. “Penelope Travers. Little harlot has a lot of nerve.”

The girl, Penelope, cast her eyes downward, ogling her own hands as they fiddled on the table.

“Leave us,” Ahaesarus said.

“What? Me?” said Erstwell.

“Yes, you. I wish to speak with the girl alone.”

“Hold on here. When I found her I was told-”

Ahaesarus glared at him, stilling his tongue.

“Yes, Master Warden,” the man said, his cheeks turning red as he backed out of the room and eased the door shut.

Taking a deep breath, Ahaesarus moved around the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside Penelope. He placed his hands on his legs, sitting up straight as an arrow as he faced her. Her eyes flicked shyly in his direction.

“So, Penelope is it?” he asked.

The girl nodded.

“You have been accused by Erstwell Karn of disobeying the King’s decree and placing all of Mordeina in danger, not to mention yourself, by secretly holding court with young Felhorn. What say you to these charges?” It felt so strange for him to accuse the girl of something of which he himself was guilty, and to say things like King’s decree.

Penelope shrugged. “What is there to say?” she said. She spoke timidly, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t even know there were king’s laws. I always thought we were supposed to obey Ashhur.”

“King Benjamin is Ashhur’s voice when he is absent,” Ahaesarus replied. “His decrees, and those passed down by his council, are spoken in our god’s name.”

She looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was breaking any rules. I was walking by the old well when I heard him crying.”

“So you decided to enter the well and give Geris Felhorn food?”

“I…well…am I in trouble?”

Be gentle. You would wish for the same. “No, Penelope. The only punishment you will be given is the knowledge that you disobeyed the will of your god.”

Those words seemed to make her relax. “Yes, I gave him food. I had just finished husking the corn for hanging when I heard him.”

“You do realize he attempted to murder our king, do you not? His mind is broken, and he is dangerous.”

“He seemed fine to me,” she said with a shrug. “Dirty and hungry and sad, but he didn’t try to hurt me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said, though in truth he had noticed a change in Geris over the three months since his first visit to the old well. Ahaesarus had taken to visiting the boy almost obsessively over that time, and he did appear to be much better. However, he was Master Warden. He could not allow common citizens to take unnecessary risks. He turned his head and pulled back his golden hair, revealing the thin scar that traced his ear from lobe to tip. “If you get too close, bad things can happen.”

“He didn’t do that to me,” she replied. “I’ve hugged him every time I’ve gone down there.”

“Wait…you have seen him more than once?”

She nodded and blushed. “Yes, Master Warden. I have been going down there for…it has to be three weeks now. I even told Little Jon that I’d take over his duties, and I have.” Her blush grew deeper. “I think Geris likes me.”

Ahaesarus sat back, shocked. Jon Appleton had been assigned by Isabel to be Geris’s keeper. He had not said anything about this young thing relieving him. Then again, Jon was a devotee of spiced wine, both the making and consuming of it. It was possible he might have seen this as an opportunity to devote more time to both practices.

He slipped one leg over the other, leaned back, and rubbed his chin.

“How old are you, child?” he asked.

“Fifteen,” Penelope replied.

“Do you have children?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “Father says it’s past time I found a mate, and he wants me to wed Lancel Pitts. But Lancel’s stupid and ugly, and he treats me mean.”

“You find the would-be kingslayer more to your liking?” Penelope didn’t confirm his query, but she didn’t deny it. “I see.”

“Master Warden, please hear me. Geris is better now. It took a few days for him to calm himself, but now he likes speaking with me, and his touch is gentle. He’s told me stories of what it was like growing up in Safeway, in the shadow of our god’s Sanctuary. About the lordship too, and the dreams that drove him mad. It was a madness that my…Master Warden, may I speak freely?”

“Of course, child.”

“He says speaking with me helped cure him of that madness. Just like your visits help him.”

Ahaesarus had no reply as he gulped down his shame. It seemed like something out of a story one of the Wardens might tell to pass the time around late night campfires.

“Now that his mind is free,” Penelope continued, “he wishes for his body to be. If you allow it, he will go far, far away from here and never come back.”

“Why has he not told me the same?” he asked.

“He’s afraid of you, Master Warden. He loves you, but he fears you. You put him in the well.”

Ahaesarus cringed, guilt building up inside him. The boy had certainly seemed like the old Geris as of late, and Penelope sounded so full of youthful optimism. Ahaesarus knew he should punish her, forbidding her from leaving her family’s tent for the span of a week, but how could he punish her? He then felt his insides go soft at the prospect of Geris’s progress being real. Penelope sensed it, and she placed her velvety fingers over his, looking him directly in the eye and doing everything she could to show her earnestness. Yes, she is captivated by him, he thought. Just as all of Paradise would have been had he not lost his mind.

He rapped his fingers on the table.

“Penelope,” he said, “I feel the need to think on this. I bid you to return to your family, but do not tell others of what we’ve discussed. I will return to you when I have an answer.”

“An answer to what, sir?”

He chuckled. “That, among other things, is what I must discern.”

Erstwell entered the room when called and escorted Penelope from the manse. He did not look very happy about it. Ahaesarus lingered in the room for a moment, running his fingers through his hair, and then forced himself to move. He had his meeting with young King Benjamin to think of now, and he had the distinct feeling he was going to be distracted the whole while.

He found the king sitting on his throne in the old dining hall. It was the very same room where Geris had attempted to take the boy’s life, the stain on the stone floor covered over by a patterned rug. A family of nine was kneeling before his throne, cobbled together of wicker and grayhorn ivory, the three young daughters handing him baskets of fruit and a horn of bread. Howard Baedan, the master steward of Mordeina, stood behind them, hands clasped behind his back.

Isabel DuTaureau was there as always, sitting in a chair to the right of the king, her frosty stare devoid of emotion as she watched the proceedings. Her husband, Richard, the matriarch’s near twin, hovered by her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the nape of her neck. The man’s eyes kept flicking toward King Benjamin, and there seemed to be something spiteful about his stare. Ahaesarus felt a moment of disgust. If there were one individual in all of Paradise that he didn’t care for, it was Richard DuTaureau, who was just as icy as his wife, but without her occasional charms and gift for leadership. It didn’t help that Richard had once tried to murder his own son before he was born. If any god other than Ashhur had lorded over the land…

The matriarch of House DuTaureau glanced up, saw him standing there, and then leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the young king. Benjamin offered a pointed nod at Baedan, who quickly said, “Our king has other duties to attend to, my good people. Let us leave him to it.” The family said their good-byes and headed for the exit. They were all laughs and smiles, their teeth pearly white and their simple clothing clean. They passed within a few feet of Ahaesarus, and he could smell rosemary and sage coming off them, as well as a hint of saffron. Each member of the family, from a child of four to the father, who was in his mid-thirties, met his gaze, their innocent smiles widening. It both warmed Ahaesarus’s heart and troubled him.

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.

He could see the uncertainty in the girl’s eyes as they reflected the torchlight. She fiddled before him, two sacks of clothing sitting by her feet. Her gaze flicked from him to the Wardens standing to his rear and back to him again.

“This should not be happening,” said Olympus, one of his fellow Wardens.

“Yet it is,” replied Ahaesarus.

“Isabel demanded that he be kept bound,” another of his group chimed in, an unusually stunted and broad Warden named Judah.

“I know what was decreed,” Ahaesarus said calmly. “This decision I make on my own. Any repercussions, I will bear. You need not let it vex you.”

“Still…”

They stood before the old well, Geris Felhorn’s prison for nearly nine months. It was past the witching hour, and the half-moon shone down on them disinterestedly. The barns and warehouses to their rear lingered like large midnight sentinels, the structures groaning in a chill breeze.

Penelope looked down at her hands, then at the tethered logs that hid the stairs beneath. Ahaesarus had visited her in the pavilion her family called home after leaving King Benjamin and Lady Isabel. He asked her what she most desired in regards to his former pupil. “To be with him always,” had been her response.

Now she was hesitating when her desire was on the verge of becoming reality. Ahaesarus understood her fear. She had been sheltered all her life, and if she acted, she would be faced with spending untold months, perhaps years, in the wilderness with no one but a potentially insane boy for company.

“You may turn back if you wish,” he told her.

The girl bit her lip, then shook her head. “No. I want this.”

He offered her a knife of sharpened stone and gestured toward the covering. Two of his Wardens lifted it, allowing the girl to descend the hidden staircase, torch in one hand, knife in the other. He stood still and listened once her head disappearing from sight. Faint, joyous sounds filtered through the opening, followed by hushed sobs and urgent whispers. He heard sloshing, and then something snapped, a sharp crack that brought goose pimples to his flesh, but Penelope giggled, and his nerves calmed ever so slightly.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the two youths appeared. Penelope had tears in her eyes as she led Geris forward. The boy’s gait was hunched-all those months spent tied up in a cramped space had weakened his muscles and wreaked hell on his posture. Geris’s face was clean, the curls in his blond hair nearly bouncing. He wore a fresh tunic and breeches, though Penelope had not brought clean clothing down into the well. He cocked his head at her.

“I told you,” she said, chin jutting out with pride. “I’ve taken good care of him.”

“I suppose you have,” he replied with a chuckle.

At the sound of his voice, Geris stumbled. Ahaesarus reached down to help him stay steady, but the youth pulled away as he tried to keep his own footing. Penelope wrapped her arms around him, steadying him with a bear hug.

The boy’s blue eyes flicked up then, staring right into his own. The combined moon and torchlight gave them an even deeper resonance than usual. The corners narrowed, and Geris slowly lifted himself fully upright, with Penelope’s assistance. Ahaesarus cringed when he heard the pop of vertebrae slipping back into place.

For a long while they remained silent, boy staring at former master and vice versa. Expressions shifted, and those not involved in the staring match began to shuffle back and forth and murmur restlessly. Judah muttered that the boy was obviously not well and ought be returned to the pit, a statement Ahaesarus decried with a fierce look.

A pained cry escaped Geris’s throat, and he careened toward Ahaesarus at breakneck pace. His fellow Wardens rushed forward, but Ahaesarus shouted for them to back away. Geris collided with him, arms squeezing around his torso. The Warden tousled the boy’s hair as Geris pressed his cheek against his doublet and sobbed. His hands worked the fabric around Ahaesarus’s back, kneading and stretching. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said over and over. Eventually, the Warden gripped him tight by both shoulders and gently pulled him away. He knelt down before Geris, who, despite his gauntness and pale skin, looked just like the child he’d thought would one day be king.

“I know you are sorry,” he said. “You have told me every time I have visited for the past three months.”

Geris nodded.

“And I am sorry too,” said Ahaesarus. “For what you suffered, for placing you in that well…for everything.”

The boy chewed on his bottom lip, his cheeks glistening in the moonlight.

“Son, how do you feel?” he asked.

Geris shook his head. “Better. Not perfect,” he said with a sniffle. His lips twitched between a smile and a sorrowful frown. “Please tell…please let Ben know I never wanted to hurt him.”

Ahaesarus pulled him in close once more and rubbed the back of his head. “I will. That is all in the past, son. Tonight you begin anew.”

“But what if I’m not better?” the boy asked.

“If you were not better,” said Ahaesarus, glancing at Penelope and trying to sound confident, “you would not be leaving with her.”

He stood up then, and Penelope came forth, twining her hand with his former student’s. She handed him one of the sacks and slung the other over her own shoulder. They stood there in silence, two youths looking to the Warden for guidance.

“What will we do?” the girl asked.

Ahaesarus pointed off in the distance. “You will head away from here, away from Mordeina and humanity. Find a way to cross the river just west of here. Go to the shore, or maybe the Craghills. It is a wild land, unvisited by humans. The nearest settlement is Conch, many miles north, but you are not to go there unless as a last resort. There will be war in Paradise soon, and only after that war has ended should you consider letting your presence be known.” He cleared his throat. “Remember, distrust everyone you encounter until you learn the outcome of the war.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Geris. He sounded younger than fourteen in that moment.

“It means we do not know who will win,” Ahaesarus said gravely. “Should you emerge from the wilds, the flag of the lion may fly over the place you once called home.”

There were teary good-byes as student left teacher, wandering into the pitch-black forest through the gap in the wall and disappearing as if he’d been swallowed by nothingness. Ahaesarus shivered. He was frightened for the two youths, but he knew in his heart that he had made the right choice. All of humanity deserved its chance to thrive. Geris deserved it most of all.

“What if he is not cured?” asked Olympus. “How can you be sure?”

“I trust my own eyes,” Ahaesarus said with a shrug. “For the last eleven weeks he has shown marked signs of improvement. But even if he is still ill, that girl will guide him through it.” He slapped his hands on his knees and turned to his brothers. “But let us not think of things outside our control any longer. We have a war to fight and quite a ride to get there before we can fight it.”

“And what of the boy?” Judah asked. “Isabel will not be happy when she discovers you set him free.”

Ahaesarus shrugged. “And? This journey is already my punishment, and by the time she discovers he is missing, we will all be long gone.”