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.”