A Canticle for the Fallen (The Aria of Steel, #2) by Steven Raaymakers

Author:Steven Raaymakers [Steven Raaymakers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steven Raaymakers
Published: 2019-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The First Choice of Many

They returned to their cell. Velran lay down, grunting as he gripped his bruised shoulder. Curel knelt beside him and began to heal the muscle. Raziel stood by the door, leaning against the carved stone frame. He looked down the dim tunnels, watching the furtive shadows as they travelled to and fro.

“You’re doing the right thing, Raziel,” Velran said.

Raziel didn’t reply.

“I don’t think we should have come here,” Velran continued.

“Where else would we go? We had to take the kids somewhere.”

“You won’t leave us here, will you?” Elia piped up.

Raziel turned to look at her. “No, Elia. Once Curel is done mending uncle Vel’s shoulder, we’ll leave.”

She approached him, looking up at him with her hands by her sides. “Where will we go?”

“Far to the west,” he answered. He crouched down to her level. “There are high cliffs there, where you can see the ocean. I... knew a warchild who liked it up there. She liked it very much.”

“Raziel,” Velran said, voice low. “We have to discuss...”

“We have to discuss nothing,” Raziel said. “I’m going to look for food. Watch the children.”

He stalked out into the shadows, the pale daylight filtering through the little windows of the cells his sole source of illumination. His mind boiled, and he wished he could still it. There was danger here, but the warchildren were safe at least. Even if they were cowering in the shadow of some giant stone that held arcane carvings and bloody-minded warchildren. This was no way to live. This was a sick existence, hiding from the world. There wasn’t enough food in the forest, and the more warchildren came, the greater the starvation would be. But he knew all these concerns were only a distracting veil, and a thin one at that, drawn hastily over the glaring issue.

Dammit, Alicia. What would you do? He pondered that thought, dodging between guards and workers, aimless in his wandering. He needed to move, to stretch physically so his mind could think. But what was there to think about? Magic? Stories? Unnatural redemption from the finality of death. No good would come of it. His stomach growled and he decided to focus on that goal. He found a storeroom quickly enough and slipped a few vegetables and a hunk of stale bread into a canvas bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Now I need a sword...

“What the hell are you doing, boy?” Khall stood in the doorway, eyeing him.

“We’re leaving,” Raziel said.

“Not yet, you aren’t. Lady Seraphina wants to see you. One of her personal guard has returned, and he had some tale to tell.”

Raziel stared at him, face blank.

“Faressian named Senar. Ring any bells?” Khall’s voice was dry.

“Aye. He wanted to kill the kids,” Raziel said.

“Unlikely, but beside the point. We’re bringing you up there for the trial. Do I need to tie your hands?”

“No. But I do want Velran there. And the children.”

“You killed one of ours. You’re not the only one on trial. You all are.

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