Brother, Betrayed Page 30

  “Prince Oman!” one of the soldiers cried, but Oman ignored him.

  “It’s not true! I had no intention of harming the king. I did not know. Oman, why would I want that? What…”

  “You want this throne for yourself,” Oman said, motioning to it behind Syah. “You want the power and the honor of an Arnithian King!”

  Syah took a moment, blinking. “No,” he replied firmly.

  “You wanted the king dead, and me!” Oman shouted.

  Syah shook his head. “No, Oman. Please trust me. I only have love for you and for Father.”

  “You want my birthright!” Oman cried, grabbing Syah’s arm, but Syah didn’t avoid him. Syah thought that if Oman touched him, though his grip now dug into his arm, that he would realize what was truly inside him, he would remember his brother, his friend.

  Oman started to throw him down, and Fasime cried out…

  “No! Oman, don’t!”

  “Prince, stop!” servants of Anteria begged as they watched Oman twist Syah’s body around, pushing him towards the door to the throne room. With Oman’s body over him, they then heard Syah scream, painful and shocked. Echoes of his desperate voice resounded against the walls of the mighty hall, against the statues of great, silent kings of the past.

  Oman’s body was shaking, but his hand held his father’s sword firm, gazing down to where it had sunk deep into Syah’s chest. His gaze moved to Syah’s wide eyes, his pained face that tightened and struggled to keep on Oman. “I wonder if your pain matches my father’s suffering, if your cries are as hopeless as his were,” Oman said in a low voice.

  “Great skies, Oman, what have you done!” Fasime cried as he stepped up to them, seeing his brother’s terrible deed.

  “You traitor… I despise you.”

  Syah choked as he tried to speak. His eyes closed over his vision for a long moment, but then his brother’s hate-filled gaze was still there. Syah tightened again in pain. “Brother…”

  “You are no brother of mine,” Oman answered, letting him go. He stood and pulled his father’s bloody sword from Syah’s chest. Syah cried out and fell back onto the floor. “You are no brother of ours, you are no son of the king.” Oman’s hand tightened on the sword as he watched Syah still breathing, his reddened eyes open and towards him, tears sliding down his face.

  “I banish you forever from Arnith. No one here shall ever again see your treacherous face. And since you desire so to be king,” Oman said as he walked towards the throne and then turned back towards him, “you shall have it.” Oman sneered, gesturing eastward with the sword. “You are banished to the Wasteland, you and all of the soldiers that betrayed the king by remaining here. There you will do with your wicked desires what you will. Seize him!” Oman ordered and the royal guard stepped towards Syah, but the knights were there first. They lifted him up, holding his shaking body up before the throne of the king.

  “Oman,” Syah was able to say, “please.” But then his words were caught in his throat.

  “Take him out of my sight,” Syah heard his brother command. He felt them turning him and he closed his eyes.

  Syah felt them take him out of the throne room and he heard them close the doors behind him with a thundering slam. He realized he was wounded, feeling it was deep as he sensed the blood leaving him, dripping down his chest and soaking his shirt. His thoughts were in a turmoil of disbelief and despair, but through this he was able to realize what was happening to him. He felt them walk quickly through the halls of the castle, but he did not open his eyes to see where they were taking him. He would be tossed outside, finding himself rolling in the dirt. Without the strength to stand. Without a horse to mount. Bleeding to death alone in the mud and refuse. The pain in his chest was great and it shook through his chest and shoulder. He felt as if that area of his body had been torn out completely.

  Syah heard the opening of a door and felt something that he did not expect… the warmth of a fire. He opened his eyes. He was in a guard’s room in the castle and they were lowering him down to the bed.

  “No,” Syah choked. He met their gazes as they stared down to him. They were some of the knights that had stayed to defend the castle. “You will… take me from this place,” Syah forced his failing body to demand.

  “It is not safe to keep him here,” one of the knights said, but not to him. He looked at the prince but did not allow Syah’s gaze to penetrate back into his.

  “Oman’s guards could come any moment,” another knight warned.

  Syah flinched when they opened up his shirt and pulled it off of the wound on his chest. “He is bleeding badly. If we don’t do something, he’ll be dead before we could leave the city.”

  “No,” Syah said sternly, “you will not heal it. I will not stay in this place any longer.” He tried to push himself up off the bed. The soldiers paused, watching him.

  “All right, we’ll close the wound, but quickly,” one of the knights said, turning to leave the room.

  “No!” Syah cried, but before he had struggled to sit up fully, their hands returned his weak body to the bed once more. He didn’t have the strength to fight them or the will to command them, so he grit his teeth as they began to sew up his wound. He barely felt any pain from it, only the deep pain in his soul remaining, sinking and piercing still inside him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  BANISHED

  Syah opened his eyes. Just a moment before he had been lying on the bed, or so he thought. He realized he must have been lost to waking thought, for he was no longer in the room. They were carrying him outside of the castle. He saw a large group of knights and soldiers, several wagons and many horses before him. The wagons were being packed with supplies and the horses were being packed and fitted.

  “What is going on?” he demanded.

  One of the knights looked down to him. “We are readying to leave, sir.”

  “Leave where? Oman was pursued here. The city is about to be attacked! Where are you going?” All of the knights around him looked to him then.

  “We are going to Gorusk.”

  Syah’s eyes shot open. “You cannot!” Syah forced out, regretting speaking so strongly as wells of pain went through is chest.

  “We are banished,” another knight stated.

  “Don’t listen to him! The city needs more guards. You must stay and protect…” Syah stopped, unable to speak as pain flooded him, his body tensing. “Where I go, I go alone. My brother is foolish, and angry at the death of our father. But don’t let that be…”

  A few of the knights shook their heads. “Come,” one of them said.

  “No!” Syah cried out through the pain. “You cannot do this!”

  “Prince Syah,” one of them said, not looking down to him as they started to carry him towards one of the wagons, “we will not abandon you.”

  “Bring me my horse,” Syah said after he had caught his breath. The knights didn’t heed him at first. “I will not leave here half a man. I will ride,” he was able to say steadily, but felt his throat clench in pain after he said it. He tried to swallow.

  “All right,” one of them said, and he felt them lowering him. He stood on his feet, two of the knights staying on either side of him, supporting him where he stood. Syah didn’t argue with them, not knowing if he had the strength to stand alone. The other soldiers around him left. He stood and watched the soldiers strap down swords and packs to horses around them.

  “You could stay,” Syah said softly, not wanting to tempt the pain to return. “Oman doesn’t know who stayed and who didn’t. He will forget it in a day. You must stay,” Syah urged. The knights holding him gave no response. Soon Syah heard the sound of a horse approaching and her familiar neigh. One of the knights led her in front of him.

  “Are you sure you can ride?” the knight questioned.

  “Whether I can or not does not matter, I must,” Syah answered and stepped forward. The knights didn’t wait to see if he had the strength to pull himself up and hoist
ed him up and over the saddle. Feeling the mare steady underneath him, he remembered mounting her cycles before. He recalled the feeling of freedom he had as he guided her into unknown lands. The feeling now was only fear and regret as he balanced himself in the saddle.

  The soldiers moved back as he started to turn his horse. He did not begin to ride away. He moved his horse to the middle of the crowd of readying soldiers and knights. Syah felt each of her steps pulling and jolting the wound in his chest, causing it to ache and throb. He stopped and the soldiers and knights turned to him.

  “Defenders of Arnith, Knights of Anteria, your hardship now lies on me,” Syah said deliberately, trying to carry his voice enough to reach all of them. “You have served Arnith well. The time you have long served under her king has not come to an end. You cannot let Arnith fall into enemy hands. You cannot desert her in the time of her greatest need, her greatest peril. You cannot disgrace your vows of allegiance.” Syah’s voice began to shake. “You deserve no punishment, and you will not receive it.” Syah clenched his teeth, but forced himself to remain sitting straight and strong in the saddle. “I forbid you, any of you, to follow me on the road to darkness. It is not your destiny to lose your lives and to darken your honor in Gorusk. Stay in Arnith. Stay with your families. You still follow a path of light, and defend Arnith’s future for your children. Stay.”

  The soldiers and knights were all attentive, watching him.

  “I am grateful that you have been in my service,” Syah said finally, bowing his head to them. He lifted the reins again and straightened. He turned his horse towards the dawning night in the distance; deep blues and purples rising on the horizon, heralding to the coming darkness, and death of day.

  The sight of Anteria was made of memory, but lay flayed in Syah’s thoughts. Feelings that only moments before had been the support for his entire conscience, were smashed away by an inside hammer, and the rubble of them came crashing down and buried him. Things that he had loved, memories he had cherished… all of the feelings they elicited were now tormenting as they crumbled. His mind couldn’t help but try to find refuge… But each comfort he remembered now wounded him, because, his mind told him, he would never see it again, never talk to them again, never hold them again…. Games played with his brothers… the smile of his mother… talks with the White Cane… his life lay wasted behind him.

  He left the noise and bustle of the people and business of the city and crossed through the gates into the wild. His tortured mind had strength for one more swing of the axe… now he was alone. And maybe it was better that way. He found the road that his brothers had started so many cycles before when they had escaped the confines of the castle. He was able to keep his body up in the saddle, but his mind and heart now collapsed. No matter, the mare remembered the way and stayed on the path. The journey with his brothers meant nothing now.

  Syah’s hands tightened on the reins. He turned back towards the city, where he heard and now saw a caravan of riders and wagons passing through the city gates. Syah shook his head in disbelief as he watched them begin this cursed, terrible road. There were so many of them. His mind raced, trying to decide how to prevent them from deserting their country and turning their back on all that was sworn and good in their lives. If they had no one to follow… He realized that he was missing his sword. They might turn back if you lose them in the woods. But would they still follow this road?

  Syah looked back to his imposed direction. He started his horse, able to increase their speed slightly. The mare easily would have been able to ride faster. Somehow she sensed her rider wasn’t… the pain, the weakness now were too great. The road led into the stillness of the wood. The sound of the horses’ hooves hitting the ground, the neigh of a horse sounding its desire to ride, the creak of the wagons upon the road echoed behind him. He lifted his hand to his chest, to the wound. He knew that a dark fate awaited him. Guiltily, he felt himself eased by the sound of the knights and soldiers following him. His tattered mind and body eased, buried under the rubble of his collapsed existence.

  Scratches on a page.

  I can’t believe this has happened. I don’t understand. Did I somehow cause this? King Algoth is dead, will Arnith follow him?

  Shall I try to testify to my innocence… I never meant any harm to them. But… did I want it? Deep in my heart, deeper than what the mind senses? Did I want to be king?

  These thoughts fester in me, but what does it matter. It has ended. And if somewhere deep in an unknown dungeon of my heart a greed was imprisoned, it will never be satisfied… The riddler was false. Even if Oman fell, if Fasime returned, was crowned and dismissed, and the kingdom was left without a king, I would not return to save her.

  The storm inside me has now passed, leaving a river of sludge and stagnant pools that soon will dry up. Soon… this torture… the dying… will be done.

  Syah, Wanderer in the Darkness

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  DEPARTING

  Syah refused to eat after they finally stopped. The dark shrouds of night came over the woods and the soldiers making camp. He sat away from the fire, taking no blanket or cloth to comfort him and talking to no one. The soldiers did not try to get him to speak or eat. Some of the soldiers’ eyes were on him as he stood up, clenching his right arm in his left.

  Syah stepped out of the ring of light of the fire and into the darkness of the woods. He breathed the cool night air, but it did little to quench the fire inside him. It only fueled it, sharpening his thoughts. He lowered his gaze. His brother’s sword, his face, the soldiers, the army, all of it, always, raged over and over in his head. He stumbled blindly farther into the woods, until he could no longer hear the voices of the soldiers and the crackle of the fire. In that silence his thoughts only grew louder. He finally cried out, giving in to them and dropped to his knees. He pressed his hand to his head as if it could ease the turmoil of thoughts. He sank further, feeling tears for the first time since he had tried to plead with Oman. Tears now pleaded with the voices in his head to be silent. He gasped and clenched his chest. “No, please…” The pain overwhelmed him and he fell to the forest floor. Without the strength to cry out against it, the despair caught his shallow breath. His curled up, shuddering. In his head, over and over, his brother, the sword, his father, the soldiers. He twisted his body and buried his head in his arms.

  Syah opened his eyes to the darkness, which was no longer silent. Footsteps approached. He tried to think of how long he had been lying there, fighting with his thoughts. It felt like… days. His breath had calmed and he realized he had fallen asleep.

  “Prince Syah,” a man’s voice said from above him. They came closer and grabbed his arms. “We are moving you back to the camp,” the soldier said. Syah didn’t attempt to struggle or argue with them as they lifted him off the ground and helped him walk back towards the fire.

  Syah was sitting, somber and silent, watching the soldiers start to wake as the sun warmed them through the trees. The soldiers were very quiet as they ate and packed up their things. His mind now could count them, remember them. Many of the soldiers that had stayed to defend the castle from the Dikartians were now following him. Some had remained in the city. What compelled these soldiers to leave, what duty bound them to a fallen prince? He felt the weakness had grown inside him, and that was a comfort at least.

  The sun was high and hot above them. Syah felt it burning against him. Then it eased as he passed under the shadows of the trees. Syah submitted to the growing numbness taking over his body. He tried to sit straight in the saddle, but felt himself slipping as his head and body drooped, catching himself as he straightened again. It doesn’t matter now, his thoughts told him.

  The soldiers that followed close behind moved their horses beside him. “Prince Syah, we need to stop.” Yes, they will try to stop it.

  “Then stop,” Syah returned faintly. “Stop, turn back, it is what you need to do.” A pause. Syah sighed.

  “My lord, you are goin
g weary,” from the other side of him.

  “No, I’m not,” Syah said, straightening, and turned towards the soldier. “I will not,” Syah said, straining to keep his voice level as his chest tightened. Syah flipped the reins and was able to stand his horse going a little faster as he left them. The soldiers drifted back but then kept pace with him.

  “Should we leave him?” one of them asked.

  A knight moved his horse up to theirs, his eyes on Syah. “His wound is worsening,” the knight said. “If we do not stop him, it could kill him.” The soldiers around him nodded.

  Syah felt one of their horses come up beside him again, and, disappointed, he shook his head.

  “Syah,” a familiar voice sounded from the rider. Syah’s blood sank to his feet as he looked over to the familiar face.

  “Denire,” whispered from Syah’s mouth. “Why…” He hesitated. “What are you doing here?”

  The knight nodded and answered, “You are not well.”

  Syah’s pulse quickened. “You cannot be here. You need to be in Anteria.”

  “We must tend to your wound,” the knight answered instead.

  “No!” Syah cried. “I won’t let you forfeit your life!”

  Denire reached over and pulled the reins from Syah’s hands. He tugged them back gently and the mare stopped. Still holding them, he dismounted.

  “Denire… you must turn back.”

  “Come,” Denire said as he put his hand around Syah’s arm.

  “No, Denire. Leave me. You are trying to heal a corpse. You are following a corpse.”

  Denire stopped, his face only now acknowledging Syah’s words. In his eyes Syah saw compassion, and his own sorrow reflected back to him. Syah cringed and reached for the reins. Before he could grab them back Denire pulled him off the horse.

  Syah did not hit the ground. He let out an exasperated cry as he tried to push himself out of Denire’s grasp. His hands tightened on Denire’s leather armor, staring at him angrily. The soldiers around him stopped and dismounted.